The Path of Destruction: Salvation Part 1
by Julian Ozar
Summary: Connor's Past catches up with Him, and he is the only one that can stop them. Connor Spin off Series
1. Chapter 1

I made a few corrections for the Path of Destruction fanfic and so here's the new version

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**I made a few corrections for the Path of Destruction fanfic and so here's the new version. No big changes really. Mostly, grammar and spelling and the occasional changing of a line or two. **

**Uber thanks to my muse, Fiction.is.life for Beta Reading. Part two is dedicated to her and her selfless assistance. D**

**Part two is up too by the way and I'll try to update every week or so. Can't promise anything though. **

**Oh and if you're interested, please visit DeviantArt (you can find the link on my profile) for some pics. Yes, I'm one of those who draw pictures for fanfic. **

**Hope you like it. **

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Disclaimer: I Don't Own anyone from the Jossverse, that includes characters from Fray. I'm not making any money from this. The only characters I own are the ones that don't belong there.

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**The Path of Destruction**

Each of us inevitable

Each of us limitless . . .

_Each of us here as divinely as any is here. _-- Walt Whitman

Prologue

The place looked like Kansas - windy prairies in the middle of nowhere. All of it as far as the eye could see.

Angel looked up at the bright sky. His face, a mass contortion of muscles. His eyes feral red, mouth protruding with fangs - very similar to that of his grand sire, the Master. For a brief moment, he remembered a girl, blonde and young and beautiful beyond comprehension. He forgot her name but he remembered ner face. She felt like heaven, like being human. Then he remembered being human, in a time and place called Ireland. He remembered a family, the one's that he had left behind and the ones he had lost.

Faces, People and Places – too distant for the mind to comprehend – just vague sensations and shapes. He remembered them all.

He remembered a boy, brown-blondish hair with brooding blue eyes. There was another, a man with an English accent. He saw wisps of Platinum blonde hair. And then another girl, brown hair and very gregarious - She was always there for him.

These memories were from a life back then. He could not even remember the names but he felt them there, in the depths of his soul. He looked up once more to see an enormous demon with three heads, one wolf, one ram and a hart, moving towards him. It looked like a tornado, destroying everything in its path. It was fully conscious and it was coming for him. Angel smiled. He felt that he had somehow come full circle, and that for the first time, he was truly free.

The demonic entity loomed closer and Angel cringed at the finishing blow. It did not come. He was surprised to see that in front of him now, was a figure of medium height. He was battling the entity viciously, its image and form also seemed to be composed of energy, red and black mixing with the scales of a demonic carapace. It moved sideways and dodged a killing blow from the creature and then lashing out with its blade, knocked the demonic entity away. The figure ran towards Angel, picked him and together they ran away from the rampaging behemoth.

As they ran, Angel's rescuer shot spikes of red energy at the pursuing monster. This did not seem to inflict much damage as the creature spat out blasts of energy of its own. One of the blasts found itself on a loose pile of earth and it caused the ground around Angel and his companion to crumble, pulling them down to a darkened hole. They stumbled, fell, and before they knew it, they were at the bottom of a cavern. Angel muttered something, not in English. He wanted to know why he was being saved by the being.

It did not answer, and before anything else happened, Angel's rescuer started pummeling Angel's face. The punches fell down like hammer blows. Instinctively, Angel struck back and bit into the other person's neck, no longer needing to vamp out, his face set into a permanent vampiric monstrosity. Angel drank the blood! It was familiar. It was human. But more than that, it reminded him of something that he thought he had lost.

Suddenly the figure was no longer an unknown entity. It became human and it was looking directly at him. Light brown-blondish hair, and cold blue eyes.

"Connor?" Angel rasped in an inhuman voice.

His son smiled. "Hi dad," He rasped.

_If you still can't see the similarity, the guy with the lacerated throat being fed upon by the big unholy demon is me. _

_Yes, I know. I know. I can't believe it either. So much for positive thinking, huh? My old man once told me to Get over my problems. Get over it. Now there's a concept that works! _

_Ah, but unfortunately, things aren't as easy as that. I guess it's easier to ignore what you know than what you feel. There's a nice thought for you! _

_It seems weird, you know? Regardless of how much you try to move on. Regardless of how much you try to forget the past. It always comes back to bite you… in the ass. _

_Still there? I guess you want to know how I got here. If you have the stomach for it I can tell you the story… It happened not so long ago but it feels like it happened to an entirely different person, you know? One moment you think the world revolves around a nice, comfortable house in the suburbs, your girlfriend, your family, university next year… Until the truth hits you like a speeding van – literally._

"Connor! Connor!"

"Oh my God! Laurence! Call an ambulance!"

"Jesus, God!"

"Mom! What happened!"

"Kit, get back inside."

"Dad, what happened? Is Connor going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine dear. Now please go inside."

"Connor, Oh my God!"

"Stand back you people!"

"Did somebody get the license plate? Did somebody… Dammit!"

"Connor!"

"Connor!"

"Get up son! Connor!"

_Wait._

_That's not right. That wasn't the beginning! Not from Steven Holtz's or the Destroyer's point of view anyway. The story should start somewhere where we've crossed the point of no return. Yeah, I think that's a good compromise, don't you think? _

_The prophecy was just a filthy lie._

Chapter 1: Picking up the Pieces

Two months ago…

Urkonn walked towards the curly haired, young man, sitting lazily on the couch of a spacious apartment. He was barely twenty; hard-faced with almond shaped gray eyes. He sat stiffed backed on the couch, almost aristocratically. His curly brown hair was flecked with white, which was odd for his age.

"Don't stick around in the darkness Urkonn. At least have the courtesy of facing me if you intend to have a conversation." The young man's voice was silky and sophisticated, as he spoke without turning.

Urkonn passed from the shadows and into the visible light of the apartment. His size dwarfed the small laconic figure staring at the TV show episode of _The Alien Hunter_.

"_I love you, Gortod. I've always loved you," The TV character said._

"_And I love you but it can never be. You are an Alien hunter and I… I am a Portar from the Beta Carotene star system. It can never be."_

"_But you have human DNA."_

"_It can never be. Farewell my beloved."_

The female character started to cry. And the credits started to roll.

Lawin made a little turn of the head to look at Urkonn directly. "Sorry. That's always been my favorite scene."

"Yes, quite." Urkonn rolled his eyes in barely concealed disapproval. "Our mutual employers are pleased with the job you've done with the vampire. Rest assured that your performance has not gone unnoticed. However, there has been a new development. They have new request of you…"

"Request! Wow! That's new! Request!" The boy cut off.

"Don't be snide, boy! I don't take to baiting fondly."

The young man snickered slightly. "So, what the hell do you want now, Beefy? Need another vampire with a soul created? Hmm? Those blathering anachronisms in the council couldn't clean up after themselves? Or is Rukash finally plotting to kill me?"

Urkonn tilted his head back in suppressed anger. This little imp was supremely dangerous. "Nothing as simple as that." He continued. "There are new players whose interests are interloping with ours."

"Wolfram and Hart?"

"No. They are defeated. In time, they will no longer matter. There are other matters that demand our immediate attentions. More powerful ones. Angelus' deeds matter little in the long run. Champions are ultimately expendable. No, a few chess pieces were simply removed. Now there are newer, bigger threats."

Chess pieces? The young man on the couch raised an eyebrow. Curious. "What then?"

"It's the abomination."

"I thought you've made sure he wouldn't interfere anymore. Don't you Bastiches ever do your jobs right!"

"You presume too many things Lawin! The creature is dangerous! Already, certain… interests are trying to contain him. We would do well to do the same."

"When you say we, don't you mean me?"

The demon narrowed his eyes. "The ancients want that thing out of the way!"

"You mean Rukash wants him out of the way. Does Vrill and Boluz even know what he's thinking these days?"

"Rukash is the mightiest of the ancients. He knows what's best. If the abomination is lost, there's no telling what will be the repercussions! Especially now that the demons are becoming more unstable."

The young man known as Lawin looked down at the floor, worrying at what could be the real plot behind all of this. What about the abomination? With his memories hiding him from his true nature… or is he? Rukash is treacherous and so are his bitches: Vrill, Boluz and this overgrown orange Smurf. No matter. Rukash isn't the only ancient. I'll know eventually what's going on.

"Since I already know that you don't want us in… ah… confrontation. What do you want me to do?" He asked the demon

"Watch him. Make sure that he'll reach a dead end in his search. No fighting, just make sure that you know what he knows. If the destroyer finds out what has happened, then we are all in very big trouble! Remember little scion, Angelus' son is potentially more dangerous than anything we have previously seen. If you wish us to continue to honor our bargain, do this. "

Lawin bowed his head and seemed lost in thought. Urkonn had left just as quickly as he had arrived. "What do you think," he said to empty space.

_**This might be interesting.**_

Lawin smirked at the voice that did not come from anywhere in the room.

Rupert Giles wasn't sure as to how the hunched figure in front of him got there. His face was hidden in the shadows.

He had but to yell and five slayers would be descending to his aid, but for some reason, he was frozen stiff, unable to move because the figure – male judging from the voice – had somehow controlled him. The train, going from the watchers headquarters in Bern, had started out so smoothly. Yet somehow this person had gotten on it. And Giles couldn't even recall how it happened.

"Relax Watcher," he said in a deep throaty voice. He was going through some of the papers Giles was carrying in his brief case. It was very delicate information regarding several developments regarding the slayer line.

"Haven't we been a bad boy!" The figure was hiding in the shadows but somehow Giles could tell it was smiling malevolently. "When are you going to tell your little daughter about this? Are you going to hide this from her forever? Hmm? Like ahhh… that little thing with Ben? Hmmm?"

How did he know that he had killed Ben! "Who… Who are you?"

"How many Slayers are suffering from these attacks, watcher? How many are getting sick?" The voice implied that it knew everything already. He was here to simply to confirm. "Small and isolated cases, eh? Well, the number will rise… soon. That, I can assure you."

"I have but to call for…"

"The Slayers? Yes, No doubt they will pummel me to death. Please, summon them then." Giles could only make a faint squeak. "That's right, Rupert, you can't. Why?" The figure shook his head. "Not important. What is important, however, is the fact that your whole new world with its new council and legions of slayers does not come without a price." The guy moved closer. "I bring a warning! The old ways are gone and this is a new time… It will bring new dangers. You must find a way to withstand the new horrors that have been set in motion. You're looking for the answers in all the wrong places. I would give you more but already I have said enough."

The figure began to leave. "Don't even think you'll be able to use scythe, because it won't work. And even if it did, it would only make things worse. Goodbye."

Giles stared hard at the figure in the darkness, it was beginning to fade away. He felt the voice in his mind. Consciousness began to fade and before long Giles was soundly sleeping. He slept but he was dreaming, dreaming of a dream that he knew he would forget. The figure in the darkness had disappeared but its ominous warning lingered. A price, it said. There were also images of a place, bits and pieces of a map dots in archaic language. None of it would make sense when he awoke. In the dream, though, the message was clear: It was a call for a great battle."

There was knock on the door of Gile's room.

"Yes," Giles said rubbing his eyes. "Rona? What is it?"

"There's been another incident. It's Chao-An."

"Oh my God…" Giles' words trailed off with despair.

Rona looked down. "I already called London. It's getting worse. What are we going to do Giles?"

Rupert Giles didn't answer, though. He was looking down, staring inwardly. He remembered a solution to these disasters but he forgot. It had something to do with a map. Something about looking at the wrong answers. But he couldn't remember… There was someone here… Wait no, there wasn't. There was a dream… The train rumbled onward, drowning out some of Rupert's thoughts.

"W…What?" Giles said waking from his stupor.

"I said, what do you think will happen to us," Rona asked in a saddened voice.

"I don't know. But we'll find a way out of this. We always do," Giles voice was confident but he hoped that Rona didn't notice his trembling hand.

Tommy opened his eyes to a clear sky shining on the clear, open grassland. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a group of people talking. They were clearly distinguishable. One group, three of them, wore high class suits complete with Italian leather shoes and briefcases, and by the way they acted, seemed like bureaucrats or lawyers. The other group, also three in number, two men and a woman, were more modestly dressed with white shirts and simple khaki slacks, as if they were hobos. Their hair reached their shoulders and had features that were rather sharp, complete with aquiline nose.

Tommy went closer to hear what it was they were talking about. It felt very, very uncomfortable. One of the lawyers was shouting angrily.

"We gave that little freak his memories and we can certainly take it back. Don't think that you can tell us what we can and can't do. Even you aren't that powerful!" The lawyer's speech sounded more like whining.

The hobos simply smiled. "Power. So meaningless!" One of the male hobos mused. This one seemed distant from the discussion, as if he wanted something else from the arrangement. He was content to sit apart from the discussion, content to watch.

One of the lawyers sensing complications stepped forward to rectify the situation. "Now, now, we shouldn't get into it this much. All we're asking is that we be given the chance to kill the boy. The new blackthorn is already being created and once we can reestablish control…. then the matter will…"

"Be quiet!" The other male hobo said. The whole prairie seemed to tremble from the two words. The three lawyers quivered with fear at the other three. "Stop whining about the Blackthorn! You shall not and cannot make a new one, that is a fact and with it the checks and balance in the world. You don't have the power or mental capacity to restore that delicate conduit so stop pretending that you can!" The lawyers grimaced. "As for Angelus he was given to you as added bonuses to our little joint venture but you, for some reason of stupidity, have managed to mess everything up! Now you have nothing and are in no position to negotiate! I worked very hard to get Vail to give the abomination those pacifying memories. And I worked harder still to get Angelus to think that the deal was his idea. So before you try yelling about your grand designs remember that this entire chain of events is our enterprise, not yours! Everything that has gone wrong is your fault!"

One of the lawyers spoke, "My good lord. All that we are requesting is that you consider our proposal for killing…."

"Killing the destroyer? I'd advice against that…" the female hobo said, then continued by one of the males. "Besides it's petty. But what are we to expect, I mean you actually thought Angelus mattered in the long run, that he could become your biggest bargaining chip! Hah!" The two Hobos laughed.

"Great Ones. You've said it yourselves. The boy is an unforeseen disaster. We are more than capable of killing him."

The hobos began to sigh in frustration at having to repeat themselves. "Are you really that foolish? Even if we can kill him, the effects of his death could very well destroy us all… The cosmic laws do not apply to paradoxes!" The lawyers became quiet at being reprimanded. "Do you know the extent of the machinations for us to keep that boy out of the Apocalypse? You got Angelus, his father…"

"And let him escape." The female hobo observed. "Yes, you had Angel. You had a chance to make an enemy into an ally; good for business; just another champion in a long line of champions but you failed. And pathetic and weak as you are, it is still Irrelevant! But Connor? That boy was not planned for, an anomaly. He could very well put everything in turmoil. We paid too much in making sure he would be happy as a human… and out of our plans."

"We gave him the memories!"

"No, you were _allowed _to give him the memories – the memories we designed through that piece of shit, Vail. Do you have any idea how many higher beings are trying to use this abomination as their own chess piece? One already did, that bitch! There's no telling how many more are out there. We gave too much for you to indulge in petty revenge. Angel's gone. That's all you're getting. Get used to it!"

"He betrayed us! We demand vengeance on the son as…"

"Are you incapable of listening? Angel is… was your problem, the son is not. The boy will remain safe, happy and undisturbed. If he is awakened from his dream then…" The hobo shook his head in dismay. "We can't risk anything that will make him participate in the apocalypse. We have no need of you indulging your petty vendettas. If the boy loses his safe little home, everything will be irreparably complicated! Now, begone!"

The three turned to go but one of the hobos, the one who was aloof, made a final gesture.

"Oh and ah…Should the boy lose his memories…You'll wish he had not - Innocent or not." The lawyers trembled at the threat.

At that, the three lawyers faded from the prairie. No sign, No nothing.

"What do you think Mar?" the female asked the aloof male.

"Isn't it obvious? They plan to use our one time student as bait to get Angelus back." The aloof male answered.

"Stupid of them." The other male observed. The other two nodded in agreement. "Let's just hope the senior partners don't do anything stupid."

One of the hobos looked in Tommy's direction and muttered something and then to his companions, "He's here again."

"Really?" Another replied laconically.

"I wonder if he knows the part he will play?" said another.

"Who knows? The nexus is still forming. Too early to tell."

"We must hasten then."

The hobos then turned to Tommy. "Go back, boy. You'll need your strength if you are to fulfill your duties."

Then the aloof hobo added. "Oh and uh, can you record what happens in Desperate Housewives next week? I'd like to have the full collection before we invade the world."

The two other hobos looked at their comrade with odd looks. "What?"

Then it was all gone. It felt like being ripped apart but Tommy ended up back in his room.

Tommy woke up from the dream gasping for air and nearly collapsed. That place. The dreams and visions were always set there but always different. But Tommy felt something deep in his gut that told him things were going to get very messy. After all, he doesn't watch the housewives.

First Entry.

I am now writing this entry upon the leathery surface of a demonic hound's skin that I have just killed only moments ago. Yes, that is a piece of skin you are holding. Rest assured that I am laughing at your discomfort. But do not take it so badly, rest assured you are avenged - the devil has wounded my right leg and I have more reason to grimace in agony now than laugh at your discomfort. But pleasantries side, to the task at hand!

It's been months, at least I think it's been months, since Steven and I have entered this damned world. To say that the young lad is strong and healthy is surely an understatement. Any other infant would have been suffering from hunger and malnutrition by this time, not he though. The little imp is actually smiling at me. I cannot say that the fortunes and the gracious Lord has not been watching over us both, for after a day upon our arrival I have had the tiring duty of making sure that several packs of, what appeared to be, demonic hounds would not turn us into their meal. Suffice to say, since I am writing this down, fortune, my poor skills and God has allowed us to remain safe and healthy… though I cannot say the same for our comfort.

The place that is now our prison is the product of a twisted mind. Vile, hard and oppressive to the human psyche. Demons - primitive, animalistic ones roam free and wild in this forsaken land, their danger to us unending. And yet I find this place surprisingly familiar. Perhaps, I assume, that is a part of its mystique. Contrary to what Sahjahn had implied when he said 'Darkest of the Dark worlds' this world is quite bright. The months that we have been here, I don't think there has ever been an evening. There had been no moon, no stars, no twilight nor peaceful repose from the endless bright heat: just eternal sunlight that ravages the mind and dampens the soul.

The boy and I had to rest in caves, usually high up near the cliffs (because we had arrived on a desert canyon) that, as I've said earlier, is infested with ravenous predators. Food consists mostly of wild moss (mostly for Steven) and the flesh of the several demonic hounds that I've managed to kill (surprisingly appetizing) for me. Cooking and fire are not quandaries as there seems to be ample fuel in the form of a thorny vines growing near the caves where the child and I are staying. My most pressing concern at the moment is for the child and his welfare.

Nutrition is at the top of my priority for him. Shelter we have. Safety, however temporary, we also have. But I fear that moss, even one that is mixed with some kind of syrup to create a sort of porridge, is bad for the poor child. There is water here, though (Yes! Water in hell!), but I'm afraid it has given my stomach a most unpleasant awakening. I feared for the child when I boiled it and gave him some to drink. I feared that he would suffer from the same afflictions I had received. It has not. Surprisingly, the boy has had a better time adapting to the wretched environment than I have. In fact he even seems to be enjoying himself in this place, a thing that I am scared of. It's almost as if he is among his own kind – demons. That is what I am most scared of. I do not know what sort of creature this is. Spawned from something that cannot be. Train and raise him here? In this damned place? I fear for what may have been unleashed into this Universe. Had I somehow stumbled into something that I am completely ill equipped to comprehend?

Nevertheless, to the task at hand!

_Happiness is relative. Whether you're hunting demons in hell, sleeping with your lover, waiting for something to happen or just taking for granted everything that is good in your life, it's always just a matter of perspective. _

_And with that, you are reminded that they are all just circumstances. You remember suddenly that this world could be a heaven as much as a hell. You wake up to the dying roars of a speeding van, seeing a whole new world that will not stop spinning, pulling you back down into the darkness. Hands clutching your throat, forcing you to remember a life not your own, reminding you of the prices paid, and the sacrifices lost… for you. For the love of you. For the false happiness you craved. For the shelter against the choices that you failed to make. For the lies you tell yourself on your bed before sleeping._

_We can run from it. We can ignore it. We can face it. We can fight it._

_But the truth is it will always be there. It will take away everything we hold dear. It will take away our dreams, that truth. It could set us free... _

_And then maybe… we can find happiness again._

Connor Reilly was staring at the picture of a beautiful teenage girl. The picture was in black and white. The girl was posing delicately, hair cut short, possibly blonde, and almost defenseless and innocent yet containing a vibrant reserve. He took the picture and put it in his bag along with the other things he found in his father's belongings: A tape with an Irish man stuttering some lame ad for Angel Investigations, A picture of Wesley, Gunn, Fred and…. Cordelia. Another tape of Wesley dancing in his underwear. A picture of a small infant. And, a baby sized hockey shirt with Connor written on it. There was also a picture of a group of teenagers in a club, one of them, the girl in the photo. There were some papers and scrolls, containing prophecies and stuff but all in all Connor got what he needed.

Connor rummaged through the chest again. This time the thing he found made him shed a tear. In his hand was the sketch drawing of a lithe woman in her twenties, youthful enough to even pass off as a teenager.

"Mom," Connor croaked. He had seen his mother only once. And sometimes he was suspecting that it had all been an illusion. But if it was, then the woman in the drawing had startling similarities with that illusion.

Connor packed up his stuff and everything that he could carry from the storage. The last thing he grabbed were the keys to the Mustang, Angel's last will and testament for his only child.

A few weeks after his fight with Hamilton in Wolfram and Hart, Connor received a note in his dorm room instructing him to take care of a few material possessions. He knew where it came from and he knew he could not refuse. It was something important, like a thing that only a father could give his son. Connor smiled at the surreal memories he knew to be lies but he knew that they were the truths that he had tried to elude for too long. And no matter how much he wanted to deny the past it always returned again and again.

Something disturbed Connor away from his thoughts. They were the sounds of uneven footsteps, approaching with quiet but determined speed.

"They sent you here to die, you know," Connor said in his low, brooding voice. "Just leave and let me get this stuff and I promise you won't end up in my sister's time capsule."

The three large, burly monsters hiding somewhere within the darkness did not budge but its leader was walking malevolently straight at Connor. The creature was big and seemed awfully capable of taking down a tank. Connor put down his bag, stood up and reflexively assumed a fighting stance.

"You won't need to do that boy."

Connor didn't flinch but was surprised at the words. "And why is that?" Connor responded.

The demon eyed him cautiously. "My name is Urkonn. I bring greetings from some very important people. They say that you and your family will be safe. They guarantee that no harm or vengeance…" Urkonn gestured at the darkness around the storage. "will befall you or your family. Take these… trinkets of your past and remember them no more. Angel's path will bring you nothing but sorrow."

Connor smirked and raised an eyebrow. "So what you want from me is to just stay out of the way? Is that it? So who really sent you? Wolfram and Hart? Demon cult? A Hell god? Don't really care they've been farting those 'stay away' noises at me for a while now. A lot of people have been trying to harm me these past few months too. 'We're from this and that.' They seem to either want to kill me or make me shut my mouth." He then crossed his arms petulantly.

"Angel is gone. His destiny and yours are no longer bound. Let. It. Go."

"You know I can't do that." Connor said backing away a bit.

"Fool. If you continue down this path it will lead you back to where you once were. You'll become the being you've always despised – The Destroyer. Is that what you want?"

"No. No, I don't want to go down this path. But if I can save Angel as he saved me…." Connor shrugged

"You'll sleep better? Hah! Fool! Go back home boy, your little mission is a charade!"

"You wouldn't say that if you didn't believe it to be true. I'll find Angel, even if all that's left are ashes. Now go fuck off, Stacie." At that Urkonn seemed to fume. He raised his hand and the darkness behind him became alive with rampaging demons. "They are just a warning boy. There will be more if you persist into this. And they may reach your family."

Connor was ready. He was aiming for Urkonn but the demon leader ran off leaving Connor to fight the three demons surrounding him. Connor feinted to the left, ducked and landed blows left and right into his attackers. The first got its eye sockets torn out by a dagger hidden in Connor's sleeves. The second and third got their heads chopped off quite handily from an Axe Connor saw among objects in the storage.

He was just about to pursue Urkonn when he felt a hard blow in his gut. Connor flew to the other end of the storage facility. He looked up to see a large demon walking straight at him, not Urkonn, bigger. Connor thought it looked familiar when it hit him like rock. The demon was large and it towered over Connor significantly.

"So this is the great Destroyer. You should have listened to Urkonn. You might have left here alive. I heard so many things about you. How you slaughter among the Kluthu. But even if those stories were true, which I very much doubt now…" The creature looked at Connor contemptuously. "This world has obviously made you weak. You have forgotten how to be a real warrior!"

Connor snickered. "Nah! Just became more sociable that's all." They fought each other, trading blows with no sign of weakening. It went like that for a while until Connor managed to back his opponent to a corner. Connor was about to deliver a finishing blow when he relented and backed two steps.

The demon growled in disgust. "You've grown weak. You've forgotten our ways."

"On the contrary, I remember a lot." Connor stretched out a hand. "I wish I don't but I do. Do you know what else I remember?" Before the demon understood what was being said, Connor's eyes turned into a color of dark red, magical energies was concentrating on his left hand like dark-red smoke. Before the demon could move, half of its body looked like burned match stick. The demon's eyes stared knowingly at Connor. The demon had only heard of the destroyer but now here he was in all his glory. Then the demons body was completely burned.

Connor then ran away from the scene, trying hard to think of things other than the growing darkness within.

"Well?" Urkonn asked.

_**Impressive! **_**The voice said.**

Lawin looked at the demon beside him. They were standing atop a high building overlooking the rent-storage place. "A warlock. The white boy's a warlock." Lawin shook his head. "The ancients never told me Connor Reilly was a warlock. Intriguing…"

"He's more than just a warlock. He's an…"

"I know. ANOMALY. Rukash has certainly gone through a lot of trouble just to give me this little exhibition." Then changing the subject. "He fights pretty well. But sorcery… I may have my hands full on that one."

"Doubt your own powers? You need not worry about that. Our good Connor Reilly despises his powers as much as… well, you. Believe me. The demon he just fought… Yolek, hard as a rock and can only be destroyed by sorcery. The boy has apparently remembered that or he'd have no way of killing it in a bare knuckle fight. He's a warlock alright but he's still squeamish with pulling the trigger. Like…"

"Me." Lawin scratched his head absently. "Good fighter. Dark sorcery. And all you want me to do is monitor him. What if he catches on."

Urkonn looked at the boy next to him as if he was a fool. "It's him or you."

"Kill?" Lawin raised an eyebrow. "Certain… ah… interests might not approve."

"And when have you cared about what others think. You never did and certainly not Amazarak."

"Let's cut the crap Urkonn. I know that Rukash wants the thing dead. Unfortunately, the other ancients don't want that. So he's got his hands tied. Am I correct?" Urkonn puffed his chest involuntarily. "These others think that it would be imprudent to eliminate him. Just as… imprudent as say… eliminating me and my family. Come. Come. Don't look so sullen. Instead, you send me to do what you otherwise cannot do. I ah…observe him until one day… he spots me and I die. Or I win and he's dead. Or we kill each other. Win-Win situation… for you. Both or one of us dies, while Rukash can say that his hands are clean?" He accused.

_**Don't push it!**_

Lawin ignored the voice. "Don't worry Urkonn. I'll do as you wish, but only because the other ancients asked me to… and for the cure. Next time you try to set me up to be killed try not to be so inept about it. I can read your plans very easily, dude."

Urkonn looked like he was fuming. Lawin left and when he did, Urkonn smiled. "No you don't, boy." Lawin was being distracted, not being set up to be killed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Gospel According to Judas

Chapter 2: The Gospel According to Judas

_You know what? There is something very wrong with Urkonn! _

"Shut up."

_That white boy, Connor, he's certainly something you don't see every day. _

"Demon warlock. Nothing uncommon about that. Shut up!"

_Do you really think Urkonn or Rukash would plot something so simple. They are many things, Lawin, but they are not simple!_

The TV was on low volume but it still delivered a clear sound.

"_Why won't you love me! Why! Why! Why!"_

"_I am sorry Kut. But I will love only Gortod."_

"_Is it because he has a human DNA?"_

"_Yes. No. I don't know. I must leave you now. Farewell Kut."_

Credits.

Lawin looked up from the book he was reading and shut off the TV. It was about prophecies, mainly those concerning creatures like his current assignment. One of the perks of working for people like the ancients was that you got access to a wide variety of information - things you didn't even know existed.

There were prophecies on Connor but it's like they were incoherent and unstable as if they were saying that the creature was also unstable. Lawin felt a knowing sense of dread, the kind he knew Urkonn must be feeling at that moment.

"Listen to this: The father will kill the son."

_Facetious Aphorisms Prophecies are nothing but trash!_

"I don't know. These prophecies are clear on one part and then they blank on the next. It's like watching a picture with holes on it, like a blind guy trying to describe color from what he feels with his hands."

_You're asking the wrong questions about the wrong things._

"You mean, why would Urkonn want me watching a warlock?"

_The ancients are not to be trusted. We both know they are already spinning treacheries around you. Do remember that you are still a traitor in their eyes. _

"And to my family. Do you think I've forgotten?"

_You went down this path when you chose to run off on your own. I hope you're not developing any compunction._

"I've betrayed my upbringing to be here! They have to give me that at least."

_Both sides see you as a traitor! That is reality._

"Bastard," Lawin cursed under his breath, daring the voice to respond. There was only silence.

Lawin thought about his current position. He was in a foreign land, away from everything he knew to be real; aligned with the enemy of his family, the ancients, the old ones, the mages that created the Slayer line… and many more. He had a voice in his head that was a source of all his powers. He was being set up for his own destruction. He was being made to make sure that a demon was not doing anything naughty. And, he wasn't being told why he was given such a simple assignment. It felt like being back in high school.

Lawin was born at a time when Michael J. Fox could still pass off as a teen, in a country with hot tropical weather. Lawin's family, however, was not so normal. They were among the last few ancient mage clans of humanity.

Eons ago, when the ancients- the power that forged the slayer line- were still formidable they forged another power that could bind magical energies. They called it, the Scion. If the slayer line was meant to battle demons in hell mouths the Scion line was different. It was fated to counter the growing threat of dark magic. And like the slayer line, it was to be exclusively female, that is until, a disaster happened to the Scion line.

At that time, a group of rogue mages rebelled, a transgression that would become the mage clans of today. The Scion was to be another weapon in the ancients' arsenal against these rebels.

Specimens were already selected by the Ancients to have the Scion grafted into their brains. One died another took its place, a power that was designed after the slayer line, life magicians. The line was not ready, however since there was an instability with the energy that kept making its hosts turn into mindless killers. That didn't matter to Lawin's ancestor, Amazarak, a young sorcerer and servant to the ancients. Out of hatred and personal ambition, he stole the Scion and grafted it into his own life force, changing it so that it could accept a male host, and then escaped. Amazarak was proclaimed a traitor and hunted by demons, by slayers, by sorcerers and by whatever soldier the ancients could gather against him. They never caught him and the energy that he carried within nearly destroyed the rogue.

The ancients didn't really care so much about Amazarak stealing the Scion. They were pissed about the fact that he bound it exclusively to his blood line, monopolizing a very potent power source, a very unstable magical entity bound to a life that was not supposed to have it. Amazarak had sons and kept running from those that hunted him, but he never found peace from his crimes.

In the end his family ran away from him and he died with the Scion ripping apart every last shred of his life and sanity. One of his kids, also male (with the help of magic: _It's a boy! _Always a boy) received the Scion and was also hunted by the ancients and inherited his father's curse. And upon his death passed it to his own son as would also his son and so on, following the pattern of inheritance.

Over the years, the Scions managed to find ways to stabilize their powers and in doing so, they became more powerful. And, while relatively safe, they would always run the risk of turning into a craven monster like Amazarak if they failed to use their powers properly. This went on for centuries until Lawin's time. The Scion was passed down from one generation to the next, just like the Slayer line created eons ago, except only it was within the family instead of different people from all walks of life. One Scion in every generation, always a boy, with powers to bend magic to his will.

Now centuries old, the blood line now known as the Zarakim had consolidated its position as a sort of sorcerer mafia, hiding in quiet towns, away from prying eyes, enemy mage clans and from any hunter the ancients might send their way (not that ancients could do anything. Their powers were too sapped to be of any use anyway). All aspects of their lives- money, education and social- revolved around family and Amazarak's Legacy.

Lawin was born into all this and grew up with sorcery training and stealth-based martial arts. By the time he was in his early teens he was an adept. He was the heir apparent of his ancient family's vast holdings as well as the magically imbued lands that keep them safe from the ancients and any who would harm them. But most importantly, he was his uncle's heir, the scion at the time, to succeed him. He fought. He killed. He served. All in the name of Family. All in the name of Amazarak's legacy.

So when Lawin at eighteen refused to kill a girl, a telepath, and rescued that same girl from the hands of his family, he was effectively named a traitor. He gave the whole family the finger and ran off with his victim. He tried to protect the girl but eventually she was killed by no less than Lawin's own twin brother. This effectively narrowed his choices. He began to see that all the pain and misery in his life was caused by the Scion. And so, he jumped ship and ran off to the only people that could break his curse: The ones who created it, the ancients.

Upon first meeting, the two parties agreed. Although there was no known cure for the Scion energy short of wiping out the blood line, Lawin would get all the help he wanted towards finding a different way - help he could not find anywhere else. In exchange, he would serve the ancients as one of its warriors... until the day he would be able to rid himself of Amazarak's legacy and give the curse back to the ancients.

The rain was growing stronger outside. There was news on the TV about a recent unknown strain of viral infection in Nevada. The apartment wasn't big because he didn't want it to be big even though ancients gave him a daily allowance in the form of gold – alchemy.

Lawin walked towards the window in his apartment. He was being sent to watch a warlock. He was being asked to be a killer again. The Scion, the voice in his head was quiet. He was alone to think about Rukash, the ancient who was trying to be alpha male. He was thinking about Vrill, Boluz and their lackey, Urkonn. The wrong people had the power and they would lead everything to destruction. They were planning for something big, capitalizing on the events following the severance of Wolfram and Hart, the instability in the slayer line and the failure of several prophetic events. Nothing was going as it should be. Even the dark over soul, the thing that calls itself the First, had tried to intervene a few years back. Something was desperately wrong. Or could it just be ruse?

_Yes. Yes it is a ruse._

"Shut up!" Lawin said and went to sat back to watch TV.

Once again, procedure is making me write this down.

I am, as of today, being transferred to America. Nobody's saying anything about anything. Brigid didn't say anything. I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. But it doesn't take a bloody physicist to tell you that you're in a lot of trouble. I wish she did though, say something, I mean. I don't know, perhaps, it's just my vanity talking. All she's said was that she was going to the continent awhile. 'That's just great' I wanted to tell her 'Oh and uh I'm being shipped to the god rotting colonies.' Ah but I overreact. It's not so bad when you think of it. Maybe if I screw up my tour there, they'll just fire me for good.

Then perhaps I could always get a job as a professional drifter. I hear it's most interesting. Well maybe I would if I don't get myself killed.

-Aidan "London Gin" Traverse, August 2005

P.S.

- Get more painkillers. The migraines are getting worse.

Watcher's Council, London

The gangly young man of about twenty years sat quietly in the reception hall right next to Rupert Giles' office. When he was finally called in, he walked into the room with concealed eyes observing at him. Those eyes seemed say the same thing: Freak.

"Oh, Good morning. Please take a seat Aidan."

"Thank you Mr. Giles," The young man said with an awkward but tired voice. He was putting up a front of formality and stiff upper lip decorum.

"You're looking splendid today. How's your mother?"

"She's been rather poorly these days. Colds, I'm afraid. A bit of the bad weather."

"Oh my. I hope she's okay."

"She is. She is. Her health is a lot better than mine, anyway." The guy's voice carried a bit of bitter irony before flashing his teeth in a British smile to cover the dark brooding scowl that would have followed.

Giles, for no reason he could say, suddenly matched the other person's mood: brooding. "Don't be like that Aidan. You're looking rather splendid, regardless of your… ah… condition."

The young man was suddenly irritated at being patronized and he checked himself against an outpour. "My condition is rather irrelevant at the moment. I would like that we shorten this meeting as I have pressing matters to attend to, Mr. Giles. I'm rather concerned about my Slayer, what with all these rumors about a plague, I fear for her welfare, you see. And I really must coordinate with the other watchers to deal with this threat. So if we could simply skip further pleasantries…"

Giles looked him over and saw how vulnerable this person really was. He looked very much like an old comrade, long dead from a deadly attack. He wanted to say something that wasn't patronizing but found it impossible. So he did what was asked of him. "You're being reassigned Aidan." The boy did not say anything but was visibly shaken though not surprised, like a criminal who is finally relieved that he was caught, the chase finally over. "But then you already have the memo I sent you. (Aidan hadn't read it) I just wanted you here in order to make it as official as possible." The young man began to argue but he was cut off. "Brigid will be reassigned to another watcher. For now, I need you to go over to California and help with the Watchers and Slayers stationed there."

Aidan blinked. But Giles raised a hand to stop him.

"Aidan, you're not being reassigned because of your little debacle. On the contrary, you've had more field exposure than anyone in the academy, you have aptly handled yourself in the most tenuous of situations and you're among our more resourceful people. Which is why I need you to go to California and help with the watchers there. We have a shortage of personnel in that part of the world and were sending all the people we can. We are spread too thin. Your experience with the… uh…"

"Dark arts." Aidan said the words with bitterness.

"If you wish to refer to it like that... would be beneficial. As I was saying, our people in California need help and are badly undermanned. I would like it that we can rely on you in helping with the mystical department. Willow and the coven are spread rather thin these days. And I would prefer someone more versatile down there. That place brings back a lot of rather… tense memories."

Aidan considered this for a moment and finally spoke. "Who shall I report to?" The voice was compliant but held a tinge of resentment.

"Aidan, I understand that you don't like this assignment but it will only be until we can deal with this crisis. I'm sure it will be dealt with soon." Giles did not betray the worry in his mind. "It is all temporary and you'll be back into your original duties as soon as it is all over." _Original Duties. _Aidan wanted to laugh. After all, when this crisis was over both men knew that Aidan was going to be heavily interrogated for his past _sins_.

"Mr. Giles, I… accept the transfer. Please don't trouble yourself like that. It's not like the World Cup is at stake."

Giles wanted to say that the world might be at stake but he checked himself. "Charming. You'll meet up with Mr. Glessing in LA. He'll bring you up to speed on the situation there. Don't go about when you get there. Keep close to Glessing and do what is asked of you, okay?"

"What about your daughter?" Aidan smiled sardonically. "Will she be joining Glessing and me as well?"

It was no secret that Rupert Giles treated the Summers sisters like his own daughters. The comment, however, was distasteful which caused Giles to clean his glasses to hide an angry face. Aidan regretted being a smart ass.

"No, she is not my daughter. Dawn is doing well in UCLA and she will only be notified of these… developments unless the situations escalate." A brief pause and Giles extended his hand for a goodbye. "That will be all. Have a pleasant trip Aidan."

"Thank you, Rupert."

When the young man left, Giles took out a photo from his desk. It was of himself, the late Quentin Traverse and a young boy. They were in Liverpool in the picture, enjoying a bit of the city then. The picture had been before he became Buffy Summers' watcher. He looked at the boy in the picture, sickly and with sad yet defiant eyes. He smiled a bit at himself. Aidan Traverse had always been sickly then, just as he was sickly now, but underneath the fragile exterior was a strength that defied even death.

When Giles thought about Aidan and Death and Quentin Traverse, he felt a sudden gush of pain, pain in behalf of this strong yet sickly boy, followed by rage, at the crimes done to preserve him.

Outside Giles' office, Aidan took out his phone and called somebody who was very dangerous.

"It worked," Aidan said into the receiver, "they're sending me there."

Malachi arrived into a large cavern, with massive gothic walls. The place had no windows or doors but light seemed to come from thin air.

Finally, he came to the center of the cavern and came upon a seven foot creature made out of hardened carapace. He looked up at the creature and nodded. The two walked into a smaller cavern that appeared to be a resting area. Malachi took a seat while the creature remained standing.

"The nexus is forming. The horde is already here." Malachi began.

The creature seemed to nod in assent.

"They are small. And I doubt that the watchers or even the ancients know that they are here. So far, even the powers that be don't seem to want to raise a finger. Strange, don't you think? Are there any messages from the others?"

The creature had no mouth or any sign that it could communicate but Malachi understood it perfectly. It said: Flee

"We can't. The rules are different; the next world could be a catastrophe! The Horde has no reason to come back after all this time."

_There's destruction and conquest._

"After that hell god that called herself, Jasmine? After Glorificus? After the First? After the destruction of Wolfram and Hart! Why would the Horde come back to a position that is of no consequence? These events are happening too close for comfort. It doesn't make sense. There are too many coincidences! There are too many powers interfering. I am inclined to think that there is more to these things than meets the eye."

_You're being paranoid, _the creature telepathically said.

"Of course, I am. That's why we're here. Everything is in danger. If the Horde reclaims the deeper well then all may be lost."

_All __**is**__ lost! We must flee!_

"Again, I will not!"

_The vision shows us that the best course is to flee!_

"But there are other courses! All we have to do is band together with the other cells."

_The other cells operate independently. And they have chosen to flee until this situation corrects itself. They see the vision and act according to what they think is best and then give us the clip notes via the same vision. If you insist in interfering in what is going to happen then it is likely that we will be alone. But again, I stand as your servant._

"Thank you. But you know that if we leave this dimension, it would surely be destroyed."

_What do you propose?_

"The anomaly."

_That is dangerous. _

"And the Scion."

_He is a servant of the ancients!_

"No. He is not."

_No one will help you with this, Templar. What you propose to do is tantamount to suicide. None of the others will help you._

"No. No, they won't. But what other choice is there? It's all a losing game. Heads, they win. Tails, we lose. Only way we can survive is if we change the game. That's what they're doing now. The others may not help me. But the big question is will you?"

_Yes._

"Then the die is cast."

_What will you do?_

"I'm contacting Marastoth."

_Is that wise?_

"I was given approval. The only thing left to do is to make it official."

_What about me?_

"Not yet. Soon you shall have your moment. But not yet."

_For now we must do the unthinkable and ally ourselves with an ancient evil._

You're living a lie, he thought.

Connor was spending his weeklong vacation with his family in LA at their home near Will Rogers State Park. Stanford midterms were already over when he returned. At the moment, he was reading the note Angel left him on where to find all the things he had left for him after the debacle with WR&H. It read:

_Dear Connor_

_You'll probably never see me again. Best that you don't know where I'll be going. I wish I could have done more for you but I guess people like us are just too messed up. There's a storage location three blocks north of the Hyperion. There are few things I won't need there and I'd appreciate it if you could watch them for me. I wish you the best of life._

- _A_

_P.S. _

_Stop dating older women. _

It had taken him a while to muster the courage to get to that place, but he finally went and here he was, stuck with the relics of the past. The letter was now aged and torn and Connor kept rereading it whenever he could. For more than an entire year, he didn't want to have to come near Angel or any relics of his past – and yet, here he was now - Back to square one. The trinkets Angel left him were ominously dark. They looked at him with a terrifying power – one that was deeply rooted in the ghosts of the past.

Slowly, since that day his memory was restored, he kept remembering memories from Quartoth. Days when he was only four and he had killed his first demon; days he was taught warlock sorcery to protect himself and Holtz against demons that considered them too great a threat; days his memories of sorcery were erased by Holtz (to protect him from himself); days he made his last spell by opening that dimensional gate back to earth, before Holtz erased the last vestige of his warlock knowledge. They were being mixed up with the peaceful memories of Connor Reilly's childhood. The warlock known as the Destroyer, Connor Angel, the child of two demons, and Steven Holtz, the psychopathic demon hunter, they became the boogiemen beneath Connor Reilly's bed, an ordinary guy from Stanford. All the memories, all the hells that Angel and Holtz tried to protect him from were suddenly flooding back in again. They were destroying everything good in his life. He was doing all the things he was doing because he needed to convince himself that he could walk away. Perhaps, he thought subconsciously, if he could find out what happened to Angel he would get closure. Maybe if he could save Angel the guilt would go away, and with it the knowledge of the world beyond. He would get a finality that he could just walk away.

"Hey knucklehead," the voice of a young girl said from Connor's room.

"Kit." Connor's sister was fourteen. Young and pretty.

"So where'd all this stuff come from." She motioned to the boxes that Connor took from the storage.

"Don't worry. I'll move it to my dorm room once everything's settled. Remember Wolfram and Hart?"

"Mr. Angel?"

"Yeah."

"So he was the one that gave you the convertible." She made a mischievous face. "Is he your gay looooveeeeer?"

Connor laughed a little. "No. Just someone I used to know."

"Ex - gay loooveeer?"

"No. And I'm not gay."

"But you are into S&M?"

"Shut it, brat!"

Kit laughed as she sat next to Connor, on the edge of his bed. "Are your ever going to tell us what happened? You know, that night mom and dad were attacked and you like… went poof just like that. I mean getting hit by a bus and living is freaky enough. But bringing you to that law firm just made it worse. Connor, you've been…"

"Different." He cut her off. She nodded.

"It's like you've been having these dreams. And you brood now. You've never brooded. Mom and Dad pretend nothing's happened but my God. It's like you're possessed or something. And what's worse is that you're cutting us off. Taking all this on yourself like some… broody…guy thing." She looked down for a moment. "So, where's he going? Mr. Angel, I mean."

"How'd you…"

"I can read. Older women?"

Connor looked down and saw that the letter was still in his hand. He quickly folded it and placed it back in his pocket. "Kit, whatever happened to me that day with the bus was a miracle. And whatever happened with Wolfram and Hart will stay there, okay? This," he motioned to the boxes "is just saying goodbye to them all. Something I need to do to put it past me. Something happened that day but it's over now. I promise."

Kit looked into her brother's eyes. They were still her brother's but somehow there was something else beneath it. She knew something was off but she felt that what Connor said was truth. He was trying to fix whatever wrong that happened that day with the accident. Once he did, none of it would matter.

Kit smiled. "I know." She got up and went for the door and looked back. "Tracy called by the way. She was looking for you. I heard she left her boyfriend and is looking for some company."

"You know, for a fourteen year old, you can have a pretty disgusting mind."

"Prude . Come on. Mom needs help in the kitchen." Connor followed.

A day went by for Connor. Colleen and Laurence Reilly ignored the change in their son as nothing more but the sudden change into adulthood. There were some walks with Kit. Visits and hanging around with high school friends who were also home for Thanksgiving break.

He never told them what he was doing, going off alone on his own during the night, leaving without saying why or where he was going. Only a simple, "I'm going out. I'll see you tomorrow." It was scaring everyone.

He brooded about that. _What would I say? Could I tell them that I'm looking for my biological father? Could I tell them about these things in my head that even I'm not sure about? Hell, that's right. Maybe I'm in hell and I died in the accident. Yeah, sure or then again you might be in an institution getting your daily dose of sedatives. What is wrong with you? Why don't you just walk away? Just walk away. Pretend that it didn't happen._

_Maybe I'm afraid I'll lose the memories. I'll lose Connor Reilly. He's the only person who isn't a monster. Maybe I'm afraid that whatever trouble Angel had gotten himself into, will get me too. Or the world is in trouble… or the universe… or everything... Always had been to begin with. Just too afraid to accept it._

_I tried to tell myself I could just ignore it. But I knew there would be a price, a price that everyone I love would pay. Who do I love? Do I love them? Or do I just remember that I love them? What's real love when it's all just experience? One thing I'm sure though, I know I can't walk away. I have to face whatever and wherever this road will take me. I have to face it and I have to finish it. That's the only way I know that it will go away. For this hell to end..._

_And if my finding out what happened to Angel is the answer, will it end with him? Or will it bring me on a journey back to a place I wish I could forget. I can't even answer that myself. All I know is that Angel is the closest thing to the answer that I have right now. If I could find him maybe he will lead me to whatever it is I'm looking for. What am I looking for? I don't know. God, I'm an idiot. But I'll know when I find it and I'll know because I will no longer feel like this._

Connor walked down the stairs from his room. His father was watching TV.

"Going out?" Laurence asked, hoping that this time Connor would tell him where he's going. One time he dared asked but all he managed to blurt out to his son was a "are you on drugs?" phrase. To which Connor said an honest no.

"Yeah," Connor said.

The reporter on the TV was relating about a typhoon in the east coast. And how there were also typhoons all over coastal China and South America. It ended with a "Up next, how a possible flu epidemic in Central Europe reached a small town in Nevada. More news at ten." Laurence turned off the TV and looked at his son.

"Son…"

_Oh shit here we go!_ "Dad. I really…"

"No, let me finish. I'm not a very strong guy. So let me just dash through it. Your mother and I, saw how you changed since that thing at the law firm. You became quiet. You brood. You never used to brood. You get nightmares. Heck, you look different! What I'm trying to say is that… You're a grown man now. Almost twenty. We know that you are a good person and that whatever you're doing, mysterious as it is, is your own thing. Maybe one day you'll think enough of us to tell…"

"Dad, you know that…"

"I know son. And, frankly, your mother and I know that you love us. We've never doubted that for a moment. What I'm trying to say is that this is your life and… it's your life, you know… and whatever it is you're doing out there is no longer our business. I mean, we know you don't do drugs. Or you're jumping from building to building. Or run around with the mafia."

Laurence laughed to hide his fears. Connor was hiding a terrible secret from him. He and his wife already knew about it and yet they can't seem to recall what that thing was – as if something had been removed from their minds. Despite the secrecy though, Laurence couldn't bring himself to ask his son about it. Something was stopping him. He knew Connor knew about it and he also knew that Connor knew that he knew. This secret was truly terrible and he couldn't help but cringe involuntarily. Despite what insanity is going on now, Laurence had faith in his son and he knew that eventually they would get through this. For now, he obeyed his instincts and let Connor figure things out. He seems to be the only one who can cope with all this craziness.

"I didn't know I'm Italian."

"It's us being paranoid. A feeling that I'm afraid that accidents like with the van are not coincidences. Out there, well… You're probably just partying… girls…. I guess we never saw you become a man. Never really felt that an era had come to an end. " Connor looked at this kind hearted person, his father. "Just remember that no matter where or what you become, we'll always love you."

_You don't know how tenuous that sounds to me. _"I love you too, dad."

"I know."

"Could you do me a favor?" Connor asked non-sequester.

A silence engulfed the two. And Connor struggled for words but all he could manage was a "I'll see you tomorrow" followed by leaving.

Tommy Bolt had come from a poor and broken home. He'd been on drugs since he was fourteen. By the time was fifteen he ran away from home and jumped from one end of the California to the other, getting high on whatever drugs he could get from whatever means he could. By the time he was seventeen, he had these dreams of people in white. They claimed to be angels. Drugs or not, there was definitely something mystical happening to him. They showed him ways on how to find money. Showed him miracles that made him forget the drab grayness of his life. They showed him a world he never dreamed possible.

Now, he wouldn't believe that easily but then when he woke up from that first dream, he no longer felt the need to take drugs or get stoned. However, he always wanted to get the dreams back. It became his new addiction. It gave him a high that he had never felt before, like being in heaven.

Eventually, the dreams started talking to him. And he did as they asked .

The requests were weird. Pick up a book and put it in the middle of nowhere. Destroy a small statue. Pick up an amulet. What was up with that? But it didn't matter to Tommy, anymore. The dreams gave him all the satisfactions he desired. They showed him where to rest and where to find money that was just lying there. So why bite the hand that feeds you? You don't. Which is why Tommy was not making noise as to why he was standing in the middle of nowhere, staring at the gaping hole of where a town used to be.

Tommy climbed down slowly until he reached the bottom. There, the first thing he found was a sign that said: _Welcome to Sunnydale. _Right…Why would it want me here, anyway. Whole place is a sinkhole. Tommy walked around for a while among the wreckage, looking over the rubble and mess. The state hasn't really done a lot to clean up things. As he walked around Tommy found something that caused him to gasp.

"Hello," an image walked up to him. It was that of a hobo.

Tommy looked up in wonder. "You're real!"

"Nah, You're just that crazy." The hobo smiled like person. "You like the dreams."

Tommy nodded.

"Good. Then you won't mind doing a little favor for us."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Rabbit Hole

Chapter 3: The Rabbit Hole

Connor, walked cautiously among the demons in the cavern. He was basically underground in the sewers. And these were demons. Not that it mattered since they sensed that he too, was a demon.

Connor stopped in front of a small stall with unusual knickknacks scattered all about. Behind the stall was pointy-eared bird like creature with holes for eyes. The demon looked up, as if seeing Connor with its missing eyes. Connor sat down and flipped a claddagh ring that once belonged to Angel.

"I'm taking an enormous risk by being here boy!"

"Oh shut up. You liked the color of those mohra demon eggs I retrieved for you!"

The demon hissed a word that was vulgar.

"Mature. But as I remember, our deal was that you tell me what happened to Angel. And I give you those eggs. As far as I'm concerned the only thing you've given me is how to make a damn locator spell."

"Yes, and it is up to you to make that spell. You have one of your father's personal possessions. Why do you think I sent you to get his stuff? You could use the enchantments I gave you yourself! I already pointed you in the right direction! What more do you want?" In truth Connor never wanted to go to the warehouse. He didn't want to touch Angel's things for fear of what they might lead to, but the spell needed a personal belonging in order to work.

"How about your end of the bargain!"

"I'm already in danger by just talking to you. I have to think of my brood. You're a warlock aren't y…"

Connor grabbed the demon by the neck and dragged it to the table. Nobody seemed to notice this among the other demons. "Now listen! I don't do magic! I don't do spells and I don't keep my temper to a minimum. You like Mohra eggs? Well then, may I just remind you of your own eggs. Dozens of them right? I'll turn your skull into a cup and use your unborn children for baking pancakes! Now, again, here's the personal possession. Locate Angel!" He let go of the demon oracle. "Please."

The demon looked around as if afraid of hidden eyes even in the sewers. It weighed the pros and cons. "Follow," she said and led him to a room that was completely private. The demon took Angel's ring and placed some powder onto it. It kept looking around, hoping that someone would come to its rescue. It intoned some spells and a light flashed. As the flash subsided, the demon was huddled in one corner of the room, eyes wild with fear.

"What happened?" Connor shook it and asked. "Where's Angel? Did you see where he was?"

"He's gone! Dead. Dead. Dead. He's gone you will not find him." Connor looked into its eye. It was lying. He knew it.

"You're lying." Then Connor started shaking it again. "Tell me what you saw."

"He's beyond hope. You'll never help him in a thousand years! But you! Walk away boy! Just walk away. The thing that's coming has been preordained eons ago. It is very dangerous and very unstable! It could destroy us all! Please for all our sakes, just walk away!" Then the demon started shouting for help, bawling and raking at Connor with broken claws. "I'm sorry! Please, help me! I swear I could still be of use. You told me that you would help me! Get me out! I'm sorry! He was threatening my brood! Please, I tried. I tried! I didn't know what to do. Oh, please he was threatening my brood."

"Who are you calling for?" Connor was alarmed. This was a set up. "What did you see!"

Connor grabbed the demon again but before it can respond its head became surrounded by demonic energy and it exploded. Connor blinked, covered in slime and blood. He backed off and ran for the door. Connor, saw a silhouette running away from the scene. Connor pursued but felt a blow behind his back. He looked around to see a dozen or so demons, glaring at him.

"Great," Connor muttered as he took out a short sword concealed in his jacket.

Lawin had followed Connor to the sewer. The moment Connor entered the stall, Lawin was alarmed. Lawin was at the moment, skittering around in the form of a scorpion. Everything had started out so good from the beginning. For the entire week, Connor was mostly at home but every night he went to this place, an oracle according to Urkonn's contacts. Lawin followed Connor into the cavern every day for the past week since that demonstration with Urkonn.

Now, though, something was very wrong. The oracle was being hysterical. They went into the stall but only Connor came out, covered in slime. Did he kill it?

What the? Demons were surrounding him. And those weren't local. Bigger. As he was thinking this, Lawin was blown away from the ledge he was looking from. He flew a good two stories, landing back into the sewer floor in his human form.

"Oh great!"

"What the…" Connor looked at Lawin, incredulously. "Where'd you come from?" He smelled that he was human.

"From Uranus. You?" Lawin snickered.

It's not that Connor cared but the guy sprawled behind him but he seemed to be the only human in a place full of menacing demons. Connor hacked and slashed his way through the first three demons that got near him. Problem was, there were more than a dozen. And there was a civilian there.

Connor paced himself, killing two more while trying not to be surrounded. His arm was wounded but it didn't slow him down. He kept slashing his way through. Though injured, he refused to use his warlock sorcery. Not only because he had an aversion to anything magic but also because it made him feel like a demonic freak. He looked at the sprawled figure slowly trying to get up. "You! Go! Get out of here!" He'll track him down later and ask what he needs to ask, Connor figured.

More demons were coming. He pulled the guy by his shirt and tried to push him out of the way. "Go! There's more of them!"

Lawin gave the other guy a derisive look then shot out a powerful energy blast that propelled the demons nearest to the two. Connor looked at Lawin with surprise. "We both go!"

They ran from one end of the sewers to the other pursued by a dozen demons. Connor hacked at them with his sword, refusing to use his full power if it wasn't absolutely necessary, while Lawin was shooting energy bursts like a machine gun.

"Use your powers!" Lawin shouted.

"How'd you know about them?" Connor shouted back in rage.

"Just shoot, goddamit!"

"Have you been following me!"

"Shoot, asshole!"

"You have been following me! Who sent you? Wolfram and Hart?

"Shoot!"

"Demon cult? Warlocks?"

"Goddamit. Warlock! Just shoot!" The two turned at a corner and found a narrow passage. There was a door and the two sealed it tight and blocked it.

Connor's back was to the door, forcing it to stay closed as the thumping on the over side became louder. "Look you bastard. I don't know why you're following me. I don't know who sent you. I don't even know why they're trying to kill you. But when this is all over you and I are going to have a chat."

"My name's Lawin. Nice to meet you too." As he smiled, Lawin blasted a hole on the other side of the room and the two made a run for it. As they kept running, everything became darker and darker. And before they knew it they were stuck at a dead end.

"Shit. What now!" Lawin's hand was radiating energy but his face was contorted a bit with signs of pain.

"What do you think?" Connor said, his eyes taking on a red and black color as cloud covered energy danced throughout his body. The two took on a fighting stance when a section of one of the walls broke loose and somebody with a paramilitary outfit stuck his head out.

"Over here quickly." The two blinked. "Here or the demons. Take your pick."

_Dammit! The world's getting too small for comfort, _Connor thought_._

The two followed the guy. They ran until they manage to get to a ladder leading upward. The three climbed up and reached an upper tier of the sewers even as the demons were flooding through where they just were. "Get back," the stranger commanded as they reached the top. As he said this, a section of the sewers below exploded and bricks and mortars fell on top of the demons. In fact, the blast was so powerful that it shook Lawin and Connor off their feet, throwing them like matchsticks all over the place.

When Connor managed to get a hold of himself, he saw that everything was out of place but he was still all right. The mysterious stranger that helped them had disappeared and the guy calling himself Lawin was climbing another stairs to get away.

"Come back here!" Connor yelled. "Shit."

The demons below were beginning to recover through the rubble. There was no time. He'll have to take care of this later. Right now he had to go.

Ten minutes passed and Connor reached a safer part of the sewers. Demons were still pursuing but at least now it wasn't a lost cause. Connor tried to find a find a way to get to the alley above and out into more open space. He kept running until he was pulled from behind and into a dark corner. He immediately lashed out but it was blocked.

"You!"

"Yeah, me." Lawin said. "Found that guy?"

"No. Thought he's with you?"

"Nope. Not anyone I know. You?"

Connor shook his head.

"Okay, warlock. You already know I'm a sorcerer. I know you're a demon with issues. But right now we gotta work together or we're screwed. I've scouted this place for a while and I might have a plan. See that intersection. Yeah, right there. A few minutes and it's going to be flooded by our little friends. I can make a spell that should blow up and seal off that section, leaving only a few left. It should give us a fighting chance but I'll need your help."

Connor glared accusingly. "And why should I trust you?"

"Because, white man, that tunnel to our right is our fastest way out. They are coming from the left end. If I can seal it off with this spell then we're home free… As soon as we kill the ones who survive of course. Besides, they're also trying to kill me."

Connor thought about that for a moment and decided to go with the plan. "But after the smoke clears…" Connor gave a wry smile.

They waited until they saw shadows approaching from the left end of the intersection. "And they're off," Connor whispered.

"And the crowd goes wild." As Lawin spoke he flicked his arm and energy exploded where there was once corner of the sewers. "Now!" Lawin screamed.

The two attacked and killed the remaining seven demons that were left after the section exploded, their comrades still on the other side. Five minutes later the two climbed out of the sewers.

"You're not so bad in a brawl," complimented Connor as the two walked got out of the sewers.

"Thanks." Lawin was smiling but he was clutching his head, as if with a migraine and he kept his nose covered with a handkerchief

They were bruised but nothing too bad. They stopped for a minute to catch their breathes. While they were doing this, Connor was jumped from behind by a vampire. The two wrestled until Connor managed to kick it away and throw a stake at its chest.

"This day sucks!" Lawin yelled. As five more converged.

"They're trying to pin us down until the guys down there get here." Connor gestured to the man hole. "I suggest we make a run for it. Split up."

"I hear you."

"Yeah but if I ever see you again…" Connor shot a dagger look.

Lawin nodded his head. "Yeah, Yeah. Long talk."

The two shot out at their attackers and ran off in two directions. Connor didn't even see what happened to Lawin. He just killed one vamp and made a run for the main road. That was until Connor smelled a familiar scent.

"Shit!"

He turned around, and back into three pursuing vampires. He killed one as he was running and kept running until he managed to lock unto the scent. He reached out into the darkness and took hold of a running figure.

"Let Go!" A tiny female voice demanded. "Let me go!" Connor swung the light figure over his shoulder and kept running in the same direction, trying to find different way out the alley.

"Kit! What are you doing here?"

"What the hell were you doing down there!" Connor's sister yelled back.

"Dealing drugs. Why?"

"That's not funny!"

As they neared the main road a vamp stood in their way. So a stake shot out of Connor's sleeve and killed it.

"What the hell!" Kit yelled as it exploded into dust.

"Would you believe swamp gas."

"I'm not kidding you overgrown jackass! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Talking to demon a oracle to find my biological father who I recently found out because I was hit by a bus and brought to an evil law firm. The demon oracle's dead, I'm being chased by demons… and you are going to be grounded when we get home young lady!"

"Oh, I'm in trouble!"

Then Connor became somber as they reached the main road. The demons were no longer in pursuit. He put his sister down and looked at her straight in the eye. "You weren't supposed to see any of this Kit. God, I wish you had more sense than to follow me here."

Kit just kept quiet as Connor called for a taxi to take them as a far away as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Evils Within

Chapter 4: The Evils Within

Somewhere faraway, Connor could hear the steady chatter of a TV from a nearby building. Its times like these that he wished he did not have supernatural powers.

Darla smiled at Connor.

_I'm dreaming._

"You're not my mother."

"No. I'm not. But I am the closest thing you have to a friend right now."

"Not interested in a friend. Go away!"

"We've met before, you know. The warehouse, that girl. It's too bad you never listened to me. You could have saved the girl, you know. But at least you killed that bitch, Jasmine, before she caused any permanent damage."

"What are you?"

"Some people call me the First."

"Right! Well, as long as I'm dreaming. Do you mind backing off a little until I wake up? Thanks."

"You're not going to find him you know. And your search with that silly oracle is - was a dead end. What will you do now?"

"Don't know. First thing I am going to do, though, is get my sister back home. After that, well, I don't know. Maybe I should just stop."

"Stop finding Angel?"

Connor nodded. "And why am I even talking to you? You're a figment of my deliriously insane mind."

Darla made a girlish laugh. "Because you're insane sweetie."

"Uh huh. Thanks for the reminder."

"Speaking of reminders. How's that brain of yours. Quartoth coming back now? How about the memories of L.A.? Or how about memories of when you first killed that overgrown Fyarl demon at what age again?"

"Four."

"Killer at four. You're just dangerous aren't you?"

"I attacked it from the back while da… Holtz was doing most of the work."

"So modest."

Connor just kept looking dazed. He had brought his sister to a nearby abandoned building that was the best for hiding. The plan was to hide until sunrise. He was to be on watch but plans were sometimes broken, like him dozing off right now.

"Don't you find it odd, Connor, that Holtz as well as Angel played with your brain. Two dads. You don't think it's beginning to be a pattern, do you? The first one to make sure you'd forget the demon warlock known as the destroyer. The second to make sure that you'd find happiness amidst all the hells.

Connor thought about that. Holtz had restructured his mind. Yes, but the ironic thing was that Connor was the one who asked for it. He hated magic and now he knew… well, remember why. Even as a child, he had been among the greatest warlocks of Quartoth, specializing in destruction spells and demonic warp gates.

At first Connor refused to learn, getting more kicks from ripping things apart than channeling pure chaos. But Holtz convinced his _son _that learning the spells was necessary for survival against bigger more primal powers in Quartoth and the dimensional gateways were necessary for Connor to be able to open a way home.

Holtz insisted in Connor learning these things but the younger man hated sorcery, considered it an aberration. Despite his hatred for it though, he was a natural. Human's weren't supposed to be good with demonic sorcery. It doesn't belong to them. Why else would dark sorcerers sell their souls for their magical powers. Connor never communed with demons, he pulled off his spells on his own. Which points to the explanation that Connor was good with demonic energy because he was a demon. And this thinking just kept pissing Connor off.

The power was terrible and it ate small parts of his soul, one day at a time. This power began to take a mind of its own and before soon, it became a threat to Connor's very life and sanity. To cope with this, Holtz was forced to remove Connor's powers and with it, parts of his memories.

And then there was Angel who also gave Connor memories, memories of peace and happiness. So when Connor got his memories back from Angel – the warlock memories also came tagged along. Now the sorcery, the power, the hell was coming back. All of it and Connor was back to square one.

There is no such place as heaven or hell, he thought. I had to go to Quartoth and here to get that. Hell and Heaven are all in your head. It's there to remind you that everything: Joy, Love, Hate, Misery, Rage, Peace is up to who you are and who you choose to be.

_Me? Who do I choose to be? A raging psychopath, a demon warlock, a champion of good? Those are all hell. Not the demons. Not the hellfire or brimstone. Not the darkness and destruction. Those three are my hells, the three people that thrive on pain and misery. I can't go back to being them. I can't be them. Maybe I should really just walk away._

_Heaven is that little suburban place with Kit and my parents. Heaven is my college dorm room, getting drunk and partying whenever I can get away with it. Heaven is getting away from all the darkness Angel fought._

_I guess it's all a matter of perspective. The world. You either see it as paradise or you see it as hell. Right now, they're meshed up together. I have to get out or at least get it untangled. I need to get home. I need to get rid of the Steven Holtz, the demon hunter and Connor Angel, the champion and the demon known as the destroyer. Connor Reilly must be the only one left. Connor Reilly is a geek boy, loser but he was the only one who deserves to live. _

"Connor Reilly's a lie," the image said in front of him.

"You're a figment of my imagination. And what's more? First? What's with that anyway?"

The image shrugged. "Ever wonder why those people won't leave you alone."

"Because I'm an _abomination,_" Connor said deadpan.

"Close. But why are you an abomination?"

"Because my parents were vampires."

The first laughed.

"Cutie. It had nothing to do with your parents being demons. But it has everything to do with your father having a soul and you mother being resurrected."

"What do you mean?" Connor asked.

"Imagine a snake trying to eat itself. Impossible? Oh, yes. If you think of it in the normal way." Connor squinted. Was he dreaming this? He asked himself. "You're mother sired your father. When a vampire sires a human, it passes down the demonic corruption to the siree. In a sense, your father was a part of your mother when she sired him before. So when she became pregnant (through magic) while she was human… It was a magical big but it wasn't unique. It wasn't the punch line."

Connor listened curiously.

"Sure. Human - Vampire infant– magic. That would have given you vampire abilities with none of the weaknesses but that would have meant little for the universe in the long run. But it's not the thing that makes you so dangerous to them," Darla pointed upwards. "The thing that makes you special… It comes afterwards. It came when Drusilla sired your mother."

"Because Angel sired Drusilla?"

"Oh, you're a smart one, aren't you? Yes. Darla sired Angel, corrupting him through your mother and Angel sired Drusilla, corrupting her with the demon that came from Darla. So when Drusilla sires Darla while she was pregnant… Like I said a snake eating itself. A demon corrupting itself. A paradox."

Connor was suddenly in a state of terror. How come he never figured this out before?

"Angel was supposed to sire your mother. But I guess it didn't really matter since you're here now and… well…"

The image disappeared and Connor was suddenly awake.

When Connor woke up Kit was curled up in a corner, crying quietly. Connor went to his sister and sat next to her. "How much did you see?" He asked.

"Those things weren't real. Tell me that those things were not real!"

Connor had given his sister a short explanation of what she saw when she trailed him.

"Kit…"

"No! Don't touch me! You're not my brother! You're not my brother!…" She relented and then apologized. "I'm sorry… I just… Oh God!" She sprang up and paced around, not sure what was happening. Connor just sat, looking at her intently. She cried and circled around moaning that her brother be brought back. "Please," she said at last. "tell me that it was all a lie."

"Do you want a lie?" Connor asked, but Kit just stood there scared. Her eyes answered.

She remained silent for a whole fifteen minutes until Connor asked again.

"Kitty, please say something."

She glared at him. "Will you tell mom and dad the truth? About what those things were?"

"They know." Connor closed his eyes. "They just can't remember it."

"What are you talking about?" Kit demanded.

"I can tell you if you want to know," Connor answered.

"I want the truth then."

"Sit." Connor gestured to a chair opposite him.

"Where do you want to start?"

"Did it start with the accident? Are you some kind of alien or something that took over his body?" She laughed a little amidst the tears. "Cause that'd be kinda cool."

Connor laughed. "No. No alien. And it started long before the accident." She looked at him with sudden fear in her eyes. "It started long before I was even born, I think. Are you sure you want to play Alice in Wonderland because what I am about to tell you is no fairy tale. And the rabbit hole leads all the way down there." Connor pointed to ground.

She nodded.

"I'm not sure how I was planned, but to say the things that shaped my life started Hundreds of years ago. Doooon't look at me like that. Again, do you want to know this? It could be dangerous."

She nodded.

"Very well," Connor walked to his sister. "How do I begin? Ah, yes. Once upon a time, a long time ago there was a vampire named…"

"Hundred years. Vampires. I kinda like my alien theory better." Connor glared at her. "Sorry. Vampire named…"

"Darla. She met a guy and bit him and turned him into another vampire named Angelus."

"As in Angel, Angelus," Kit asked. Laurence and Colleen had told her about the CEO of WR&H. Connor nodded. "Wow! Vampires are real! Mr. Angel. He turned you into a… You're a vampire?" She jumped away quickly.

"What? No!" He shook his head. "I'm not a vampire!"

"Are you a werewolf, then?"

"Werewo… Kit!" He snapped. "You want to listen or not?" She became quiet and inched back nervously. "Where was I? Oh yeah, the two ravaged and slaughtered their way throughout Europe for a century in a way that would have made bikers wet their pants. Their happy, harmful fun eventually attracted a lot of attention and they were eventually hunted down by a demon hunter named, Daniel Holtz. Jack Bauer's Demon hunting counterpart. Holtz failed to kill them. And in retaliation for Holtz's chase, they killed his family and forced him to dust his own daughter, who they turned into one of them.

Years passed, always they seemed illusive. Holtz never had the chance to take revenge. They were always one step ahead of him. So Holtz got desperate, he made a pact with a dimension bending demon called, Sahjahn. Sahjahn's terms for helping Holtz were simple and free: kill, Angleus and Darla. There was no problem.

Meanwhile in Romania, Angelus killed a Gypsy during his birthday, and in retaliation the gypsies cast a spell to give him a soul. To make him want to kill himself for all the things he's done."

"Like Nick Knight." Kit was being sarcastic. Connor glared. "What? There was a marathon!"

"Right. So when Darla heard about the soul thing, she dumped Angel and ran off with other vampires. So in the next hundred years or so Angelus spent his waking hours feeling sorry about what a bad ass he was. Oh and a he changed his name into Angel." Kit smiled "So Angel ran around until one day, he decided to play _Nick Knight. _To make up for all the shit he's done throughout his evil unlife." Kit smiled again. "Yeah, he's lame. One day, he bumped to his old flame, Darla. Only this time he ended up killing her. Poof! A few years later, she was reincarnated. Only human again. They had sex she became pregnant and she gave birth to a…a kid, but only before Darla was turned into a vampire again by a vampire who Angel sired who by the way, she sired. Thus making the sire, siree, becoming a mystical vessel capable of giving birth."

"Wha… What?"

Connor laughed. "The explanations will become clearer later Kit. I promise. Care to guess who the kid was."

She looked shocked, scared. She didn't want to admit it. "What are you?" She muttered.

"Kit, I gave you two chances to back away. Words cannot make you comprehend this world you are walking blindly into. You can always run away with a lie, but this thing I'm giving you is no lie. If you take this course, you will see things that you'll never get out of your head for the rest of your life. This is the last chance." He offered his hand it was burning with dark-red energy.

Kit stared at it with horror and awe. It all felt like a terrible dream.

"But there's a catch," Connor said, "After you see what I am going to show you, I will _block that part of your memory. _You will not remember the details of story. You'll only feel the truth and this will cause you to stop seeking out. So in a way, I'm giving you the truth without actually giving them to you."

"And if touch your hand, I get this?"

"Yep," Connor said sadly.

"Did you do this to mom and dad too?" Kit asked.

"Yes."

She slapped him and glared at him with overwhelming anger.

"I deserve that."

"Why," she hissed.

Connor closed his eyes and said, "I already told you. Something is coming. Something that feeds on darkness."

"Demons?"

"Yes, Kit. I'm not certain but I can feel them. They're getting close! I can't really tell you anything at this point because I don't really know anything. The only thing that I can tell you is that I can feel it. Please don't ask me to explain! It's just something built into me and the only way I can protect you from them is by making sure that you _don't think about them._"

"This is fucked up!" Kit exclaimed.

"It is," Connor agreed, "It's not as easy as you think, Kit. You'll know the truth but you just won't know what you know. It's hard to explain but the only way I can make you understand is if you accept."

Kit laughed. "Fine, okay. I'm in but, it better be worth it."

"Oh it will," Connor said sadly then he a tear slid down his cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"I can't promise not to hate you but I promise to always love you." She took the hand and glared at him. Suddenly Kit's mind was flashed with images of Connor's past. His non-birth. Vampires. Holtz. Quar'toth. Demons: Hordes upon hordes. Jasmine. Angel. Darla. Cordelia. Sahjahn. Her parents. Herself. Wolfram and Hart. Angelus and the face of a creature that was somehow similar with her brother's. They were mixed into a hodge podge that she could not tell what was happening. There were two worlds here but both were real. What's going on? It felt like being torn apart and being glued together again. And always a single word reverberating on her ears: Destroyer. Destroyer. Destroyer.

She opened her eyes and let go of his hand. Something on her face said that she was different then. She staggered a few steps back. She slumped down and stared at this… this thing that was also her brother. Connor just stood, looking down patiently until she was ready. Will she still be his sister? Will she deny him? He didn't care. He loved her too much to care. Twenty minutes passed until she spoke at last. "You're the destroyer."

By dawn, the two were safe back home. The official story was that Kit had slept with a friend while Connor made his usual out on the town.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Oracles

Chapter 5: Oracles

Next Evening…

Lawin, checked the medicine cabinet and found what he was looking for. Thank God for painkillers. That bastard Urkonn had set him up. They all did. Someone wants him dead as well as the warlock. And here I thought I was just bait, they just wanted us together so they could get us at the same time. But who was the other guy?

_That's what you get for being careless._

"Shut it!"

_Now do you believe me, that this is bigger than the ancient's agendas_.

"I said shut it goddamit!"

Lawin popped the tablets into his mouth and let out a sigh. He switched on the TV. The news reported more epidemics and catastrophes. The flu epidemic was spreading all over Europe. Floods and earthquakes were destroying villages in China and Korea. The Florida Keys are having the longest storms in fifty years. And now, LA wouldn't stop raining.

_Great_, he thought, _more happiness and sunshine_. He slipped off his jacket and dropped straight to bed. _Urkonn's going to have some explaining to do. I was sent to watch a warlock. One fucking warlock! And Urkonn never told me Connor was trying to make arrangements with sorcerers and dimensionists. Or that something was going to jump me while I was watching him._ As Lawin tossed and turned while he was on his bed he was surprised to find a note, right next to his bed.

'You're in Danger. You were supposed to die in warehouse. Not safe to talk. Get to Griffith park. Make sure you're not followed.'

"Someone's trying to kill me? Yeah that's news."

_It was a mistake coming back here. They may already have this place tapped._

"Oh, relax. Rukash may want me dead but he'll have to fight the other ancients first. No, someone else wants me dead. Possibly, my brother."

_Unlikely. Miguel does not have the conviction to fight the scion. Go to Griffith. Perhaps we'll finally find some answers that aren't so ambiguous._

"We don't know who sent this."

_Not an Ancient, that's for sure._

"It could be a trap."

_Or staying here is the trap. So choose your poison._

When Lawin finally reached Griffith Park, the place was empty of people and Lawin chose a place less conspicuous to avoid any unwanted attention. Then out of nowhere, he was attacked from behind by something unnaturally strong. He struck back with his foot, throwing blows whenever he can but he was overpowered and was thrown across the field to land with both feet like a gymnast. He focused on his attacker and gaped.

"You!"

"You sent me that note! You attacked me in the sewers! And nearly got my sister killed! Now, I want answers!"

"First you don't have a sister," Lawin squinted his eyes contemptuously, "Connor _Angel_. Second, _we_ were both attacked. And last I didn't send the note. I got one too since you're presuming that I sent it."

"Really?" Connor said sarcastically. "And I should believe that because…"

"Believe what you want." Lawin summoned the Scion and threw energy bolts at his assailant. Connor refused to use his own sorcery, instead he took out a short sword and deftly dodged attacks and dashed at the other guy.

Lawin blocked Connor's blows left and right while the boy-demon was dodging Lawin's own punches and kicks along with the occasional blast of energy from the scion. Lawin fought back with martial arts whenever Connor got to close. Connor had to close in fast to dodge the energy blasts. The fight continued until: "Stop!" The voice came from nowhere.

"Great, more voices in my head," Lawin muttered.

A person, eighteen from his face and red haired, emerged from the hedges. He looked at each face then spoke. "I sent you the note."

"Well, I guess you're the guy to be pummeled!" Lawin grinned malevolently as he approached Malachi.

Malachi glared at the Lawin. "Don't presume to know anything Scion." Lawin blinked, this guy was no ancient yet he knew what he was. Very few people outside the family and the Ancients know about the Scion. Malachi smiled. "This is not a trap, but I would prefer we go to a more discrete place."

"You're the guy from the sewers," Connor commented.

"Yes, I am," Malachi said as he led them to a nearby abandoned building.

"I am Malachi, a mentalist. At the moment, I have employers that are best left unknown."

"No news there, white man," Lawin muttered.

"Connor Reilly this is Lawin de la Vega, a sorcerer. Lawin, I believe you're already familiar Mr. Reilly." Lawin grunted.

"Sorcerer!" Connor scoffed.

"Oh, don't be a prude, warlock."

Connor ignored the barb. "Introductions aside, I just want to know why we were attacked in the oracular spring!" Connor took a threatening step forward. "And why you helped us."

"I was expecting a thank you," Malachi said brusquely then added. "They were trying to kill you… and some people upstairs considered it… unacceptable. Don't get me wrong we did not want to keep you, both of you, from the answers, if that's what you're assuming."

"Who's _they_?" It was Lawin.

Malachi paced with his hand behind his back. He took out a small PDA and selected pictures of news. He looked at them intently, sighed and placed it back into his pocket. "You two watch gangster movies?"

"What?" the two asked.

"You know? De Niro? Pacino? Liotta?"

"More of a Noir guy." Lawin responded.

"Oh, there's Noir alright. Sit down, there's a story in what's happening now."

"We'll stand," They intoned at the same time.

"Suit yourselves. Eons ago, Demons…"

"Yeah, Yeah Demons ruled the earth and were driven out. I want names now!" Connor interrupted.

Malachi was still calm. "Eons ago demons were driven out by** other demons.**" Then Malachi took out a marker and drew on the nearest gritty wall. "Imagine the universe as a sort of city controlled by different gangs. The powers that be and the like are the police, the government. Earth used to be controlled by one gang but eons ago another gang wanted to claim it. So let's say that the Mafia demons held earth left, because they were driven out by the Yakuza or Russian or Triad demons that moved in." Malachi made an Analogy. "Get it?"

Lawin interrupted, deadpan. "Uh huh. That's horse shit. The Ancients drove the demons out. They drove them out, not other demons."

Then Malachi continued. "No, the Ancients were opportunists. The powers never trusted them and would not deal with them. When the demons were driven out, they wanted to proclaim themselves as Sorcerer-Kings, but you already know that don't you?" Lawin confirmed this by glaring. "The Ancients couldn't fart in a fair fight. Demons waged war on each other constantly and humanity and the worlds were just ancillary casualties. When the demons that controlled Earth left, the ancients made a pact with the demons that were left, to play by their rules. They got to stay and stay safe if they played fair and with businesslike understanding. Wolfram and Hart, for example was one of them. Devil you known, and all that. They also created the Slayer line to create warriors to serve their cause in addition to their demon conscripts. Their personal army."

"Urkonn," Lawin muttered.

"Yes, Urkonn. The weaker ones made a truce with them. But the more powerful demons they kept out by creating energy barriers around this world. Hellmouths, for example. They were created to serve as gates that would keep the demons from entering. Humanity's liberators were ultimately, conniving politicians."

"That's a little farfetched," Lawin said. "You're saying that Wolfram and Hart operate in this world because they got a permit from the ancients. They would never do that!"

"Do you believe that? The ancients chose a lesser evil. They compromised with their enemy to have the world we now have. If they didn't compromise, if they did the right thing, then there wouldn't be people like his father." Malachi pointed at Connor. Malachi then turned to Connor. "Your father never did. But unfortunately they," Malachi pointed upwards, "like the Ancients, don't care about casualties either."

"Wait," Connor said. "I don't get something. Let's say that what you're saying is true. Who were the demons that drove out the original ones?"

"I don't know." Malachi lied.

"Yeah and why didn't they take over once they won? You know occupy enemy territory and all that." Lawin asked.

"I don't know." This time it was the truth. The two looked annoyed.

"So why are you telling us this?" Connor asked. "And more importantly, what does this have to do with us? I just want to know what happened to Angel, then walk away. Saving the world is a job for Slayers and Champions. Not me!"

"To answer your first question, the original demons that were driven out are back." He paused for effect. "Scared? Good. Remember the earthquakes, the disasters, the diseases. It's just the beginning." He showed pictures from his PDA. "The artillery barrage is just beginning. The landing party is still coming. It's slow but not slow enough. Read the revelations lately? The invasion is going to come and once it does it's all goning to hell!"

Lawin: "I don't believe you! The Ancients would have told me about that! And besides, why now?"

"Firstly the Ancients lie to each other! Secondly, because of what happened to the Slayer line and the death of several hell gods like Illyria and Glorificus, the balance of power among the higher beings have become unnaturally unstable. And lastly, because there is a conspiracy to subvert the defenders of this world to make way for a massive demonic invasion!"

Malachi continued. "The ancients had no right to interfere with works of the powers that be! Among other things, the Slayer line should not be what it is now! The releases of powerful enchantments from their proper places have caused the entire set of catastrophes! Your people made a grab for power with the Slayer line and they dropped on their asses. Now we're in this shit." Malachi sighed. "At least you've manage to clean your own mess."

"Rukash. He's the one who planned to kill me."

_But you need to be sure._

"Yes, and no. There is a schism among the Ancients. That much the office upstairs tells me. But the Scythe? That was a big fat unforeseen mistake! No, he wants to keep things as they are just as much as we do. I don't know. There's a traitor amongst you, one that wants you dead and gone. It could be your Rukash, but then again, maybe not. I don't know."

Lawin was silent, as if talking to himself, so Connor rushed in. "What does it have do with us? Way I see it we should just stay down and keep quiet until the heroes come in."

"Do you believe it will?" Malachi asked. "Connor, my own people have abandoned me. I wouldn't be here now if I weren't such an idiot. Lawin is being hunted by a traitor amongst the people he works for. And you're looking for an excuse to walk away again. Well, I'm telling you now that finding your father will not take away the nightmares!"

"What do you know about Angel!" Connor grabbed Malachi by his shirt.

"Only what the oracle already told you! That it will be thousands of years before you will find him!"

Connor let go of him and began to walk away. He had problems at home, with his sister. "You don't know anything about me."

"Don't walk away." Lawin whispered from a corner.

"And why is that?" Connor knew the answer but he didn't care he needed someone else to say _it_ to give it weight.

"They wouldn't have hunted us down if they didn't think that we were a threat. They won't stop hunting us until we're no longer a threat and dead."

Connor's shoulders sagged. "I just want to go back home."

"You can't if you want to protect them." Malachi walked up to Connor. "They're worth dying for aren't they? Your sister, your Mom and Dad. Even Angel. Connor, everyone that could stand against the horde is incapable of fighting it. But they are threatened by three idiots. They are. Otherwise, they wouldn't try to kill us. I tell you now that they are threatened by us because they know we are a threat."

"What are you talking about? We _are_ three idiots! Freaks! What can we do? I don't even know what the hell I am! And I certainly don't know or want to know you! Angel's gone and now…"

"Look, you know deep down that you have a part to play. I know you feel it but right now I can't explain. This isn't the time or place to explain! Come back! Where are you going? Come back!"

"This is a waste of time," Lawin hissed.

They both walked away, leaving Malachi alone in the abandoned building.

"Damn them," he muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Lies Within Lies

Chapter 6: Lies Within Lies

Lawin went into the cavern-home of Anash, an ancient. He wanted answers to what happened to him those past few days. The place could only be opened by an incantation. Anash was Rukash's exact opposite. She was not cynical; she was a humanist and had never asked Lawin to do anything unscrupulous.

When Lawin had been recruited by the Ancients, she was one of those that gave him a fair shake. He always appreciated that single act of trust.

"Ana," he called. "Are you here? Are you awake? Are you alive?"

"Don't toy with an old woman, boy!" The person that came into view looked like she was in her late sixties, clothed in something like leather jerkins.

"Anash, Don't say that. You're only around five thousand years. Besides you're getting younger and younger every day."

The older woman snorted. "Sit. Sit. Before you kill yourself."

"Ana," Lawin became somber as he sat down. "Someone's attacked me while I was watching the abomination. I think it might have been Urkonn or Rukash or their lackeys." Lawin decided to hide his encounter with the guy that claimed he worked for the powers for now.

"Straight to the point, eh? That's what I've always liked about your bloodline, no tongue in the hole. Well, to answer your question. It's not Rukash or any ancient. We've sworn that no harm will come to you from us. Didn't we sign that pact in blood?"

"I think Rukash has a liberal interpretation of that promise."

"Now listen! Rukash or his dogs will not risk killing you! If you died with clear indication of treachery, they would be the logical suspects. And right now Rukash will not risk his power for a little hotheaded fool like you."

Lawin pretended that the answer was enough. He wanted to pretend that the attack had come from other sources, but he knew otherwise. They knew exactly where he was. They knew when best to strike. It might not have been Rukash… maybe. But someone had intel from the inside.

"I suppose so. But something happened that shouldn't have happened back during my mission."

"Demons have eyes and ears everywhere, Lawin. They have oracles. If some foul play was done we would know.

"But you already knew about what happened didn't you?"

"Yes, Hyall told me. The abomination, Connor was trying to find what happened to his father. Guilt perhaps or something resembling guilt. Who knows what's inside that twisted demon's head. Oh and by the way… There will be another meeting in a few days. I think the others have found a new spell that could help extract the Scion. Oh look at you smile, like a little pimple."

Lawin smiled, looked down and then decided to changed the subject. Talk about a cure for the Scion always happened but whenever it would come in, the cure turns out to be another dud. He didn't want to get his hopes up. "Do you remember Yolande? I mean do you sometimes think about her?" Yolande was the ancient who gave Buffy Summers the scythe that bound the Slayer line.

Anash was caught off balance. "Only sometimes. Her death was unfortunately necessary. She knew that she was not coming back. Why this sudden interest?"

"I was just thinking. When… When the demons first left. What happened… the great war I mean? You were there right, eons ago. Right alongside Amazarak."

"Yes. Yes, I was. Why the sudden interest? I thought we already told you what happened. We fought the demons, banished them from this plane of reality and forged the…"

"Energies that would bind as protection for this world." Lawin mimicked Anash's words verbatim. "I know. I know. Never doubted that. What I want to know is… Um… Were there other demons involved. You know other hell gods other than the ones you fought."

Anash raised a curious brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well. It's like you know…ah… They're the mafia, the ones you drove out. And the ones that drove them out are triad Russians or something. And the Ancients are the CIA and the FBI."

"What?"

"Let me put it this way. Were the demons fighting amongst themselves when the Ancients banded together to drive them back?"

"Ahhhh. So that's what you're saying."

"Yeah, kinda."

"And where did you get this idea?"

"Rumors and Stories from the Deeper Well. Hell gods buried there were supposed to have fought each other before their armies were driven and decimated by you. Illyria, for example." He looked down sheepishly. "I've studied Drognyn," he lied.

"Hmmm. Yes, before that traitorous scum, Angel, killed him, yes?" She did not believe him.

"Angel was a servant of the powers that be."

"Powers that would kill one of their own. Powers that are careless of the people and lives that must be constantly paid. Ah, but I forget myself. Why are you concerned about this? The powers that be have nothing to do with the Scion or the Ancients."

"No. But I've a special interest in hidden history. Some things are happening that you're not telling me but I know how to read the signs. Ana, were they fighting each other? And if so, did you side with one of them to get rid of the other?"

Anash was suddenly furious. "Lawin, boy. You're like my own son. You are my son. Gods know that you've done your share in fixing Amazarak's treachery. Gods know you have done more than enough in helping make this world a safer place. So believe me when I say, yes. The demons were destroying each other. You know that all too well. But we have never, ever sided with demons. We fought them with our blood staining the ground and hands gripping the weapons that would fight them. The powers did nothing. We, humanity's guardians, did all that. Yes, we fought them one by one but we have never sided with them! So don't even think that we would consort with our enemies."

Lawin's answer was short and accusatory. "The Slayer line. The Scion…"

"The Slayer line and the Scion are demonic sorceries, yes. But we stole them. We did not negotiate for them."

Lawin looked down, somewhat ashamed but still unconvinced. "Thanks, Ana."

"One thing for certain, though, there are traitors in our midst."

"Rukash and his advocates?"

"I don't know, Lawin. I don't know. The Horde is returning but you already know that don't you? You sly little liar. The Ancients are banding together again as we have in eons past. There are traitors everywhere. But even they will not stop us in preventing Horde from returning. We have done this before and we will do it again. Don't look so forlorn it makes you look old.

"I will speak in council tomorrow. Perhaps we will let you in on the discussion about our latest _end of the world._ I'll make sure the Scion cure will be on the agenda."

The 'Scion cure agenda' was a lie. Rukash would always delay the topic, Lawin knew, but he appreciated the comfort, nonetheless. "Thanks, Ana."

Five minutes later, Lawin stepped out of the cavern feeling unsure of what to think. She wasn't giving the entire story just as she knew he wasn't giving her the entire story. The Ancients were a difficult bunch. They rarely met, and most of the time they were holed up in little sanctuaries like Anash's - just sitting, fundamentally no longer human. But word was passing around that they were going to climb out of their holes and turn themselves into an army, an army of mages to resist the coming of the Horde, a vast demonic army that was the conglomeration of several demonic factions that once ruled this world.

"But why did they return?" Lawin asked the sky. "Why now?"

A war was brewing. One side, vastly demonic. On the other side, the Ancients led by Rukash and his faction. In the end, he hoped that sorcery would be enough to drive them back. But there was nagging feeling that kept saying that this big war was just the tip of the iceberg.

And suddenly, for no reason, Lawin felt that he needed to find Spike, just to assure himself that nothing was _off_.

The hall was small and looked extremely old; its distinctive features were mostly pillars of sandstone and floors of petrified wood. Anash walked up to the council hall, at the center of the cavern. It was attended by fifteen other Ancients. One of them, a wizened old man with leathery skin and graying hair, looked at her with disapproval. The man may have been in his sixties or seventies but from the looks of him he could still put up a fight.

Anash spoke first when she reached the main hall where all the Ancients were meeting. "I know the others refuse to come here, but here we are. And we should start now, rather than postpone it again until we get a unanimous quorum."

The wizened old man spoke. "Really, Anash? Perhaps you'd like to invite the young renegade as well."

"Lawin has his own priorities as I'm sure Urkonn does as well."

Vrill interrupted and spoke in a diplomatic tone. "Please, Rukash. This is hardly the place or time. Anash we are grateful that you came. Hyall was just discussing to us the nature of the corruption."

As if on cue another old woman walked into the scene. She looked at both Rukash and Anash, she was definitely aligned with the latter. "Yes, we have confirmed that the corruption is quite indeed mystical. And what's more its nature is based on the Horde's energies. We must be open to the possibility of a demonic incursion."

Someone piped up from somewhere from behind. "This is ludicrous. The Horde had many powers. Remnant demonic factions use them all the time to create a ruckus. This is not even worthy of discussion. To assume that the Horde or the Kluthu are returning makes no sense at all. None. They have nothing to gain by returning."

"There's always destruction. Vengeance." Another one said.

And then another. "But the corruption is targeting Slayers. Our Slayers. Our creations. Vorathon or not. They know about us and they are targeting us!"

"What do we really know about the Slayer line? We stole it from demons, remember!"

And another. "The Slayers are being affected by the disease because of the new bindings caused by the scythe. We started this, not the demons. Hyall, you are just being paranoid."

"Yes, we started this and whose fault was that?"

"Oh so you're saying we should have allowed the First, the dark oversoul to run free with its minions? You idiot! It was necessary to create the scythe."

"No. It was not! The scythe was unstable. It was a last ditch plan that should not have been thought of in the first place. The Slayer line _was_ stable and now it is irreparably unleashed!"

"We should never have created the scythe. We could control the Slayer line with our powers alone."

"Oh, shut up. You know we can't!"

"Yolande was the one who gave the scythe."

"Yes, the bitch!"

"Shut up, fool! She gave her life so that the First wouldn't be sucking on your worthless hide!"

"She defied the decision!"

"Oh. And I suppose it was a good decision? A just decision? I seem to recall you cowering with fear when the mention of the First was becoming obdurate!"

"Titless, son of a whore!"

The assembly began arguing amongst themselves, yelling and cursing each other. Only Anash and Rukash looked calm and introspective. Then Anash spoke. "Everyone! Please, calm yourselves."

"Ana is right," Rukash continued. "We must have a cool head. We had no idea as to what the effects of the scythe would be. But we all knew that it would render the line vulnerable. We were desperate and we acted capriciously for our own survival. What happened… what Yolande did, however ill advised, was necessary. And now we must pay for acting out of necessity."

"But Rukash. Why couldn't we just fix the Slayer line now?"

"No!" Anash yelled. "If we do that we would only cause more damage. Any attempt to fix the line could result in the complete destruction of the Slayers. And I mean all. Besides, we would risk exposure. The Slayers already know about the three who masterminded their creation… and Yolande. No, we must leave it as it is for now. We can't afford to let them know more secrets. Our priority, now, should be to combat this alleged return of the Horde. If we can deal with this new crisis perhaps then, we might have the chance at repairing the damage we have caused."

"Repair! Ana, we could well lose the entire Slayer line," Rukash snorted. "The ones who created the line were the shadow men." Rukash was referring to the Swahili Ancients that had pioneered the adoption of the Slayer line. "And they are all dead. Killed by your new pet's ancestor! Amazarak!"

"The bastard!" Someone sneered.

Anash continued. "I appreciate your views Rukash. But the shadow men did not create the Slayer line. They copied it from demonic arcane sorcery. Thus it may explain why this latest demonic plague is targeting places where Slayers are located. I have been watching the tele… what was it oh yes, television. Yes, I have been watching the television. The cities in Nevada, California, China and Russia had Slayers in them. And that is only the beginning."

"That still doesn't explain why so many people died as well."

"I believe they're just civilian casualties. The real targets are the Slayers. You know how the Kluthu operates."

"Are we even sure that it's the Kluthu?"

"Where else could it come from? The Horde is corrupting the Slayers for their own uses and the Kluthu is killing them to deny the Horde another weapon."

"We should never have played with demonic energy." Someone said sadly. "We are losing because we are now playing their games with their rules."

Then Vrill laughed from somewhere behind. "Ah, you fool. Half of our magics come from adopted demonic sorcery. The most potent use of magic is dark magic. So stop your whining. We should be the last to complain after the rewards."

Someone made another remark then another and then another. Soon the assembly was quarrelling again. Only Rukash and Vrill and Boluz and two other Ancients were standing aside from the quarrels. They were smiling smugly. They were united.

Rukash then walked over to Anash. "You know. We could use you Anash. Why fight us? You are the last threat to my power. If you join me then we could unite and present a united front against the coming troubles. The others will follow you and none of this bickering will occur." He gestured at the quarrelsome mob. "They will only kill themselves without proper guidance."

"Your guidance, I suppose? Ah, Rukash." Anash sighed. "You are a craven, conniving politician. What you are planning! Don't think that I don't know! You represent what is worst in us all."

"Pah!" Rukash snapped. "I suppose your boy is different. You say he is not Amazarak but I tell you now, that that boy is as much a killer as his forebears, enemy or not. Watch your step with him, Anash. He will bite you when you least expect it. Oh, yes he will. Remember one thing Ana. There are no innocents in this world." Rukash and his entourage then took off.

Anash looked down and hoped that maybe Lawin might find an answer. She took a look at the quarrelsome assembly and knew she was defeated.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Sanctuary

Chapter 7: Sanctuary

Somewhere in Carson City, Nevada

Malachi was watching three Slayers fight off more than ten vampires from a far away building.

_You've wasted your time_, he thought_. You should have just gone straight to helping the Slayers. Now you've lost precious time. The cells are already closing and soon you will be completely cut off. Foolish!_

The three had killed off more than half of the vampires and were now pursuing their quarry. Malachi leaned back and thought about what would happen from then on. _The storms were just wild, wet rains and sporadic throughout the globe. It will grow, though. And the hell fire, brimstone, darkness, and famine aren't even here yet. And to worsen things, my secret ally hasn't even arrived yet._

Malachi climbed down and used his psychic powers to read the mind of one of the Slayers.

"Shannon!" One of the Slayers shouted.

The girl Shannon turned around and backhanded a vamp that was about to catch her off guard. "Thanks."

"No problem." As the Slayer said this she staked another vampire, leaving only two to run.

"That's enough." Shannon commanded.

"But Shannon."

"I know. But our watcher just called. They want us home."

"We're just gonna leave them to run?" The other girl was incredulous.

"Look, Elaine," Shannon the veteran Slayer said. "You're young and a little new at this. But right now, April and the others are suffering from a disease that none of the Watchers can figure out yet. It's mystical but thank God it hasn't killed anyone yet."

"Just sends them into a complete coma," The other girl muttered.

"Yeah, which is why we should keep our heads low long enough to figure this out."

They were about to leave when five other Slayers stepped out of the shadows from different places. Shannon was the first to recognize them.

"Melanie? What're you guys doing here? Aren't you suppo… Oh my God!" The five Slayers that were surrounding them were clothed in a somewhat demonic looking carapace, their skin was gray-colored and their eyes burned with demonic energy.

"Mel? What happened?"

No response.

"Mel, what are you…" And just as Shannon said it, the five Slayers pounced on the other three. They fought and struggled, trading blows right and left. The three girls tried to escape but they were encircled. The fight kept going until one of Shannon's girls was knocked unconscious to the ground. The remaining two stood back to back as the Slayer, Melanie and her posse circled them like vultures.

"Mel!" Shannon yelled. "Why are you doing this!"

"Ah, Shannon! You're one of the Sunnydale girls right? I think killing you will be a welcome challenge." Then the five pounced and a fight continued. After few minutes, the remaining two Slayers were pinned to ground by the five.

"Well that was disappointing." Melanie's nails grew into claws, getting ready to rip open Shannon's neck.

"Ladies" Malachi was walking towards where the Slayers were struggling.

"Who the…?"

"Oh don't mind me. I'm just trying to deliver a message." Malachi was nonchalant.

Melanie was not impressed. All five of them were holding Shannon and her surviving companion down. "Jen, kill him will ya?"

One of the Slayers stood up and left her comrades to their prey.

"Run! Get help!" Shannon shouted.

Malachi did not run, rather he pulled out a ball of energy from thin air and everything was engulfed into a flash. All that was left afterwards were eight unconscious Slayers and Malachi standing over them almost laconically. Two minutes passed and Malachi returned with an SUV. He loaded up Shannon and her companions into the vehicle and sped off.

Another Eight minutes and the girls were beginning to wake up.

"Hi." Malachi said.

Shannon was tired and could barely manage a coherent sentence without puking. She managed just one word. "Who?"

"Not important."

"Why?"

"Not important either."

"How about I break your face? That important?" Someone from behind him said.

Malachi looked at the Slayer and smiled. "You're welcome."

"Where are we going?" another one of the Slayers asked from the back.

"Your HQ."

"Okay, buddy. I don't like mystery. Why'd you help us? And what did you do to do them?"

"Melanie and her girl friends?"

"Yes! They were sick only yesterday. And now," she coughed. "They're like Morticia Adams or something."

"Yes, and I suppose you know that this plague is mystical?"

Shannon's eyes suddenly grew with revelation. "Did turning into those… things part of the plague?"

"No. Something is corrupting your _people _into demons and another group wants to stop that… by simply killing you."

"Demons?"

"Maybe," Malachi answered smugly.

"How do you know about them?"

"Past experience. Listen, you can't trust me now, I understand that."

"I'm listening." Shannon was scared.

"All the places that have been infected by the disease, are places with Slayers in them." They looked at him with surprise. How could they have missed that? It was so obvious. "Whatever's doing this wants you turned into…"

"Mel?"

"Yes. This corruption is targeting the Slayer line and it's turning you into demons like your friends back there. Before, it would not have harmed you. Those who created the Slayer arranged so that it be incorruptible. Mystical barriers you know. But after the scythe, the Slayer line has become vulnerable. Vulnerable to tampering by anyone with sufficient power.

"Listen to me, lots of disasters have been happening lately. Watch TV? They are biblical. These catastrophes are related to the plague now. A powerful demonic army, known as the Horde is coming into this world. They are a mixture of remnants from different demonic armies that once swept this world before humanity's time. They are the ones that are responsible for the corruption infecting the Slayer line. There is another danger out there… They will bring their own destruction and disease… but not now at the moment."

"Who are you?"

"A friend…"

"Then why the mystery act?"

"I didn't say I was _your_ friend."

"This is bull! Why did you help us?"

"To see how much you knew. From what I seem to gather so far – it isn't a lot. Your watchers are keeping you on a tight leash."

Malachi stopped as the SUV arrived at its destination. "What's going on?" Shannon asked as she stepped from the SUV.

Malachi only smiled and drove off.

"Shannon. This may sound stupid, but how did we get here?" One of the Slayers asked. She knew that they had somehow beaten Melanie and her group and had run all the way there but it all seemed vague.

"April!"

"Yeah, but… how…. Hey!"

The three saw their watchers and, were for now, safe. And they seemed to recall that they had to contact the others and hide.

It was already eight in the evening when Lawin walked into the bar, wearing a leather coat that was hiding a half dozen weapons underneath it. The Temple, an underground safe house slash bar slash meeting place for sorcerers with shady pasts, was a large establishment reminiscent to that of a large, expensive club. The entire place had a ward in place to keep it hidden from all eyes, physical as well as mystical.

Inside, the place was very much what it was, a bar and club filled with not so ordinary patrons: Mystics, sorcerers, witches, mages and the occasional warlock.

"Hey, Kelly." Lawin shyly greeted the young bartender.

"Hey, slick." The comely, chocolate skinned bartender answered, her dark brown hair falling like waves down to her back. "Haven't been here in a while. The usual?"

Lawin nodded his head and accepted a glass of Vodka. "Been busy… Things have been getting shot to hell lately…"

"So I've heard. The Ancients killing each other?"

Lawin gave an amused and annoyed look at the bartender but was seething inside with anxiety, asking himself how much she or the people in these places knew about the secrets that were being thrown around. "One day Kelly, I'm going to find out how you do that…"

"Do what?" She smiled amusingly, like she was trying to be mischievous.

"You know. Find out things like this. I mean, for a bunch of very mysterious, very powerful circle of people, the Ancients turn into gossip in places like this."

Kelly winked and feigned offense. "A word of advice… and reminder Mighty Zarakite. In _our _world, if you look for things hard enough you'll find them." She smiled innocuously and then added, "even if they don't exist."

"I ask a question and she quotes aphorisms. One day you're gonna meet a guy, Kell, and you're going to kill him with your smart mouth."

"They haven't built a man that could take me down yet, hon." She snickered flirtatiously.

Lawin grunted in an amused response, sipping his glass while admiring the specimen in front of him - and then quickly reminding himself that she was the bad news kind. "Is _he _here?"

"Always. You can find him around back." Lawin finished his drink and began to leave.

"Hey slick," Kelly called out to the departing figure.

"Yeah."

"You ever need a new job just come and call me, 'kay."

Lawin was taken aback by the innuendo. What was that supposed to mean? That he'll no longer be with the Ancients soon because of the war or was it supposed to mean something more. "I'll see you around Kell."

_Fine Ass!_

"Shut up!" Lawin muttered.

_Fine rack too. I think she was checking you out._

"Listen to me you sex starved Bastich. Kelly is dangerous. She's a witch and she's a potential enemy."

The Scion laughed. _Then why were you flirting with her?_

Lawin barked at the voice in his head and fell silent as he noticed the stares being directed his way. The locals knew what he was. They knew who he was. And the employers he was working for. He quickened his pace to a door that led to a basement office. There, he was greeted by a large granite golem that would only let him through if he gave the right password.

"Pylea," Lawin said.

The golem moved aside and let Lawin through.

The door opened to a private office and he went inside to where the green skinned empathy demon sulked. "Hello Thorek," he said.

"Lawin! How's my favorite sorcerer? You're sober I hope?"

Lawin snickered a bit at the innuendo. Thus far, he has come to understand that Pyleans were mostly neutral in their attitudes towards good and evil, he thought with satisfaction.

"I'm afraid this is going to be a business transaction, Thorek. I need some information on a…. client of mine."

"Would that client be going about with the name, William?" The green skinned demon gave a knowing wink.

"Spying on me?"

The Pylean shrugged. "People listen, kiddo. But mostly they listen to people who spy on people that spy on their bosses." Thorek was implying the last couple of days when Lawin was secretly looking into the ancient's (which meant Rukash) activities, most of which seemed to include the hiring of additional demon and vampire mercenaries and the procurement of a lot of mystical weapons – like they were getting ready for war.

"So you want me to read you?" Thorek looked at him with a steady gaze.

"On a specific topic, no more no less. I particularly want to know where he is now… And if the Ancients are touching him? Call me paranoid." Lawin shrugged.

Thorek nodded. "Very well."

"Thanks Thorek." Lawin stood up and grabbed a nearby guitar on a stand, getting himself ready to sing.

"Don't thank me Zarakite." Thorek went to a nearby counter to fix himself a sea breeze. "I owe you from way back… Just make sure that you understand that when the Ancients come knocking down my door I'm not going to stick my neck out for you."

Lawin nodded. It was good of him to be honest. The Scion leaned over and watched to where Thorek was sitting a moment ago. A laptop was there. On it was a fan website of the show: Alien Hunter. "You a fan too?"

"Hell, yeah." Thorek said as he was mixing the alcohol. "I love Yut. He's so spunky… and kinda hot."

"He's a shit face. I want to kick his Rooplas into his Orotog. And what's with those platinum blonde tattoos. They're gay!"

"To be fair, Gortod looks like a cardboard box. Somehow, I just can't see the Alien Hunter ending up with him." Thorek thought for a moment and something dawned on him. "Platinum blond tattoos? Hey are you Black God 234? You posted those exact same words on the forum last week." Thorek said, as he fixed Lawin's seabreeze.

Lawin snickered. "It was only to respond to Chichi 40. Can you imagine that bitch? Just because I ship for Gortod and Alien Hunter does not make me Puritan Gay guy!"

"Insulting the other members isn't going to help your case one bit either though." Thorek smiled as he walked back towards Lawin with the drinks. "Ready?"

"Yes…" Lawin began to sing.

"Wait. Wait. Are you going to sing Michelle Branch again?"

"Uhhh… No."

_Liar!!_

Lawin began to sing A Red Hot Chili Peppers song…

San Antonio, Texas

"Hi." Lawin said to a man, fixing the engine of a car.

The man looked up and wiped his dirty hands on some old newspaper. His platinum blonde hair was matted from the work and he was sweating from the eleven AM sun.

"You again." Spike began walking away from the pickup truck and into some shade. "Locklin right?"

"Lawin."

"Oh, right. So, ah, why'd you come?"

"Just to check up on you."

"Or were you _sent_ to here check up on me?"

"Something like that. They're kinda," Lawin pointed at the sky. "wondering why'd you stay here? I mean it's almost two years now since Wolfram and Hart. You're human. Shanshued and all. They're curious as to why you don't go out and get your happy ending? You're free to do that now."

"You know those higher being power that be types are really condescending." Spike shook his head thoughtfully. "Dunno, mate. When I went here to give the Burkles the news of what happened to Fred… I figured I just… well I don't know what happens next."

"Like you're in Limbo…" Lawin said absently. He could empathize.

"Yeah. Limbo. I bloody hell don't even know what I should do now. I never really thought that I'd stop being a vampire, you know? Never really believed I'd be the one with the happy endings and the white picket fence. That was kinda that poof, Angel's gig. Nah, mine. What with him and the hair gel and the girl-in-alleys and all."

"What about Buffy?"

"Buffy? How'd you know about her?"

"I know a little more than you think."

Spike grabbed his head as if in frustration. "I may be human mate but she's still the Slayer. A Slayer, anyways. Nothing will change that. Don't get me wrong, being human's a hoot. But I always knew, you know. I always knew that she never really loved me. Could never love me. And if she did, it wouldn't matter because it would lead nowhere. She's a Slayer. And always will be. And me being human won't change that. All I have to do is read the book on Angel's life to know that it ain't going nowhere."

Lawin looked around for a moment. "Why don't you move out? Find a life? Girls, for reasons only God knows why, seem to like you. Big world out there. Time to let go of the past."

Spike snickered a bit. "Listen to me Junior, Texas ain't so bad. I kinda like it here. I got me a job as a mechanic here in San Antonio. Not much, but it pays the bills. After Fred's parents, well, I really don't know what happened next. Like I said. The whole shanshu thing was kinda Angel's gig and all." Spike stood up and paced around. "The Burkles didn't take it very well you know. Illyria was the first one who died in that alley. Her body was torn apart by something that looked like Shrek. No body for the funeral. I couldn't face them. So's I just gave them an address to where I… we got Illyria buried. Told them that she died in some earthquake."

"They believe you?"

Spike shrugged. "Dunno."

Lawin looked around for a moment then decided to make the leap. "Did you tell the Slayers about me?" Spike shook his head.

"About how I rescued you?"

"I didn't need a rescue."

"Fine, help then." Spike shook his head.

"Thanks Spike I appreciate it."

"You probably saved my life and got me out and got me human. I owe you lad."

"Don't mention it. We both serve the powers that be." Lawin was lying, the Ancients had never served the powers. And he would never tell Spike that he was actually just the Ancient's pawn in a power play against the powers that be.

When Lawin first presented himself to the Ancients, to ask for a cure of the Scion, Rukash instructed Lawin to do a curious thing. The elder Ancient wanted to give a vampire named Spike a soul. He was told were to meet the itinerant vampire and that also certain spies were sent to point Spike in his direction. Lawin later knew the full extent of the reason, something about a prophecy, since they could not control Angel, a vampire also with peculiar abilities, they decided to create their own vampire with a soul.

Lawin knew that this was a test to see just how well he could obey. It was clear that he had no choice, he didn't understand what was going on completely, but he had to obey orders or risk not being trusted by the people he needed to manipulate. So he placed a glamour on himself that made him look like a demon and went to Africa to give Spike his soul. The Ancients refused to use Angel to aid the Slayers because they had not created or controled him. Spike was theirs, though. They owned him. He was sent as a Champion and did everything that he was created to do, a perfect asset, regardless of the First.

So when Spike went from asset to liability, when he was reincarnated because of one Lindsey Macdonald, Rukash had instructed Lawin to make Spike human again, shortly after the fall of the Black Thorn, when his very existence was a danger to all the interests. But Lawin never delivered the amulet, others were playing with their chess piece and everything and all the plans were falling apart. Rukash was cutting his losses by making Spike human again. No one knew what the original intention for the vampire Champion really was. But whatever it was, it was messed up with the interference of the Ancients and this made Lawin brood in anxiety. The Ancients had floundered into territory they weren't supposed to enter. He was being made to do the dirty work with the highest likeliness of getting killed.

"Know what happened to Angel yet?"

Lawin shook his head. It was the truth. He really didn't know. The powers might have rescued their Champion just as the Ancients rescued their own creation. But then again he could be dust. Gunn's body was found a few blocks from the Hyperion. So were pieces of what was once Illyria. But Angel may have been dust but then, you can never really assume anything.

"Get out of this place, William. You're William again. Spike died back in L.A. You have your happy ending now, enjoy it."

"It just doesn't seem fair."

"Fair?"

"Percy. Gunn. Fred. Even that poof, Angel. Why didn't they get their happy endings? Somehow, I feel like I cheated my way here."

_No, __we_, the Ancients and I_,__ cheated your way here_, Lawin thought. "Survivor's guilt, I suppose. It'll pass. Why don't you find Buffy? She loves you."

"You never give up do you? I always knew she never loved me… not the way I want to anyway. And besides we really don't live in the same world anymore. She's still the… a Slayer and I'm back to a being a two bit nothing. You're right, Spike's gone. God, second chances are a bitch!"

"But they're also one of the greatest things in the world. And you're not a nothing." Lawin frowned at what he just said. "Okay, that was kinda gay for a moment there. Can I rephrase that?"

Spike laughed and looked at Lawin thoughtfully. "You know, I never really thanked you for helping me. When you first found me and rescued me, I pulled that macho crap on you. And afterwards, I decked you for turning me human."

Lawin smiled and touched his right eye where he got the punch. "Yeah, you thought I was in on some kind of conspiracy from some power bloc."

And I am.

"I'll find my own way, lad. And I appreciate all that you've done for me and you know," Spike pointed upwards, denoting the powers that be. "them."

"I couldn't even save the others," He lied. His orders were to save Spike alone. The powers can rot, Rukash said. "Not much to be thankful about."

"Not your fault. Fred's parents are great. Even when I lied to them that Fred died from an earthquake that destroyed the Wolfram and Hart building, they still…" Spike rubbed a tear away. "They didn't take anything out on me. Thought I was just another Wolfram and Hart lackey. I suppose they probably suspect the truth but… Do us both a favor, don't try to find me again, laddie. I'll find my own way to where I want to be."

"Good luck, buddy." Lawin nodded and walked away.

"Lawin," Spike called out. Lawin turned. "Thanks."

Lawin visited Spike to make sure the Ancients weren't planning anything with him and now that he knew they weren't, he still couldn't shake the feeling that somehow he was missing answers and he figured that he could find them by looking closer at the factors that pointed him there.

Anyway, time to get home.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Beyond the Gates of Heaven…

Aidan reached the great state of California with reasonably small pain. Plane rides made him very sick to his stomach. He took out a bottle from his luggage and popped a painkiller into his mouth. He took a lot of tablets and medicines.

From the airport he rode on a bus to LA, all the while admiring the American outdoors. His thoughts shifted however to other things, his life and his future - providing he had a future. There was a latent cancer in his brain and it was slowly killing him. And as if that wasn't enough, there were certain diseases in his blood as well as the danger of a multiple organ failure. He was living on borrowed time.

And it started when he was only a child. The doctors all over Britain said that his chances of survival were very small. It was best, they said to his grandfather, to assume the worse. Quentin Travers, back then, never spoke to him of it but he knew from the old man's looks.

Cures were futile, medical and mystical. White magic could heal, but it could never subvert death. It was, after all, a fact of life. Death, a very ambiguous word, Quentin said. One can defy it given the right tools. As head of the Watcher's council, Mr. Traverse was privy to some very powerful magicks. Defying fate was a very distinct possibility. White magic/Healing magic? Didn't work. Potions? No. Enchantments? None there. How about Necromancy? At first the council, went berserk but old boy Quentin managed to pull enough strings to shut everybody up. But for the grumbling noises nobody was the wiser over what had really happened. Why is the boy still alive? A miracle perhaps? There were rumors, of course, but who listens to those? Aidan was being kept alive by dark magic? Preposterous. Why would you say that? How could you say that? Give the poor lad a break. He's been through a lot. Bloody boring what? Necromancy! Indeed! What cheek. It's a miracle, by God! Can't you simply accept that?

Aidan stepped off of the bus at LA. The place was rather seedy and it made Aidan wary of his surroundings. He had to find Glessing's place fast. He was briefed that California was a demonic hotbed. His thoughts were cut short, however, when a voluptuous woman in her late thirties approached Aidan.

"Hi," she said in her hooker type clothes. "New in town?"

"How'd you know?" Aidan said, trying to seem older and more masculine.

"Hmmm." She shrugged. "People around here have a way of projecting themselves. Hmmm, British." She eyed him curiously. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six."

"_How old?_"

"Twenty."

"Just as I thought. Got a name?"

"Aidan. You?"

"Mona. You look tired. Why don't we find you a place where we can…uh… relax."

Aidan gave a shy smile and followed the woman through dark alleys and corners, a few blocks from the bus station.

"Don't get a lot of Brits around here. Where you from?" She walked with a flirtatious gait and she smiled to herself, maliciously.

"London boy. But I was born in Wellington. That's in New Zealand. I'm actually a Kiwi."

"Hmmm. Sweet. You in college?"

"Something like that."

"Mysterious. I like that in a guy. After all, I can do little mysterious myself." She turned around with fangs and a curved forehead to face Aidan. She was ready to feast, but to her surprise the boy wasn't the least bit perturbed.

"Mona. Is that part of your make up?" He snickered. She lunged. But before she could connect, she was floating in midair, her windpipe being crushed in a vise. Aidan was standing nonchalantly with an outstretched hand that seemed to be holding something. She tried to speak but could only make a few noises.

"What. Arrcck. Pfft. you?" She spat out the noises.

"What am I?" Aidan took out a stake from his coat with his free hand and dusted Mona with it. "I believe necromancer is the general description," he spoke to the pile of ashes.

Aidan took another tablet and popped it into his mouth. It was a something for headaches. He was told by his late grandfather that it was being caused by the different demonic parts grafted into his body. It was supposed to keep him alive. He didn't know how that was supposed to make him feel but he knew that he was no longer completely human. In a way, he might even be considered partially undead, a monstrous hybrid of life and death.

A few minutes later, Aidan was in a taxi, heading towards his destination. _Welcome to America_, he wanted to say to himself with a little irony.

After his little trip to Texas, Lawin had gone straight back to his apartment and slept all day long. Voices, so much like noisy whispers began intruding into his unconscious mind.

"Nephew! Come here. It's time you knew your birthright. You and your brother are the Scions, just as I and your father were the Scions before you."

He didn't even have a chance to scream.

"Very good, Lawin! You have mastered the spell."

"That's us, isn't it? You, the Scion. Me, the worthless side man with the voices in his head. I will never bow down to you!" His brother said. "I'll fight you. Father may bend his knees to uncle but… I don't care how much power you'll have! I'll never be your slave!"

"Our clan has many enemies Lawin. So many, that I fear that when you inherit my mantle you will face more enemies than you can bear…"

"Kill her! Kill her, Damn you!"

"Uncle, she isn't a witch or a demon or an enemy. This is all an accident, a stupid accident."

"If you will not take her life, I will!"

"You wish to serve us?" Sound of laughter echoed within the void. "Why? What's in it for you?"

_A cure. I wish to stop this curse! I wish to heal the destruction my family has caused. 5000 years is too long._

_Wake up!_

Lawin rubbed his eyes drowsily. He had passed out as a section of the explosion knocked him off his feet and threw his head on a table. "Wha?"

_Damn you! Boy! Wake up and get out! Now!_

The building where Lawin was staying shook and rumbled from another explosion from the lower floors. He was staying on the fourth floor. He looked around disoriented. Dammit! Figures were swarming all over from the windows and the front door and the fire escape. And if that wasn't bad enough the whole place was a giant match stick.

_Quickly! We must fight a path through!_

Lawin immediately summoned the Scion. His body was enveloped in a cloud of greenish energy. All around him, what was his apartment was now burning. The fire escape was blocked. The door also had demons guarding them and the windows were out of the question. The kitchen window was the best choice. It had nothing guarding it and there was a ledge outside it that led to other windows. If he followed the ledge, it would lead to an apartment that would lead to the hallway nearest to the emergency ladder or… Lawin ran to nearest window and found demons guarding the ground below. Even if he were to reach the ledge they'd still have a clear shot at him. Things weren't looking good, he was going to have to run a gauntlet.

As Lawin turned from the window a burly demon and three others ran at him full speed. He was ready, however, and answered each attack with blasts of energy. The demons staggered but they were somehow resistant to the energy.

"Ignis!" Lawin intoned and the four demons burst into flames. The flames however flickered after being cast and soon died out.

"What the?"

_They came with enchantments. They were planning this and assigned themselves protection spells. Somebody has assigned them to kill you._

"Could you have told me that earlier?"

_The kitchen window! Quickly._

Lawin intoned a spell that caused the ceiling to collapse on top of his attackers, buying him precious time to run for the kitchen window and dive for the ledge. From there he could see other demons on the ground snarling malevolently at him. Some of them were even using magicks to attack him.

A small cloud of dust exploded where a blast of energy had connected with a wall mere inches from Lawin's head. Lawin took stock and balanced/ran across the ledge to jump to another window. He shot back with bursts of flaming energy as flares of demonic bolts whizzed past him as he ran for the window and into the apartment and the main hall. From there, he saw the door leading to the apartment ladder that was the quickest way to the ground.

_Two demons behind you. Another three in front of you._

"Do you think I don't know that!" He muttered.

_Just reminding you._

The three demons trying to ambush him ended up with scorched limbs where Lawin ignited them with flames. Lawin ran for the door and reached the ladder when a demon grabbed him from behind. He answered by handily taking out a dagger from his sleeve and slashed it across the demon's eyes – blinding it.

When Lawin reached the stairs, he was thankful that the surrounding area was devoid of demons. They were still on the other side of the building. He was feeling a massive amount of pain inside his head from using too much of his powers, and his nose had begun to bleed. He slid down and ran for his motorcycle.

Five minutes later and Lawin was speeding away. Luckily, only one demon was guarding that exit and its comrades wouldn't be finding its limbs anytime soon. Lawin looked over his shoulder for a moment at his first apartment in LA. He smiled. The building was in flames and the downpour of rain seemed to make a statement of irony about it, like a bad noir movie. He rode for a while and stopped almost two blocks from where he had been, looking intently at the destruction wrought.

_Someone amongst the Ancients wants you dead. We must flee this place._

"I will look for Anash. She has to know there are turncoats."

_We must escape! _

"No more running! I've fled my whole life. We're going to find Anash, and we're going to figure out who it is that stabbed me in the back!"

_Oh like we don't already know who it is! We must flee! Screw the Ancients. You can find your precious cure elsewhere._

Lawin ignored it and stared through the rain with a determined and steely look. Before him, the fires had now consumed the floor his apartment was in.

_I think your DVDs got blown up._

Lawin blinked a moment and then yelled an obscenity.

Anash's cave was in shambles but there was no sign of her anywhere.

Lawin walked amongst the carnage, recalling the time when he was sent by the Ancients to retrieve the broken body of Yolande in Sunnydale. She gave the scythe to protect the world and now she was dead, killed by Caleb. Anash did what was right and now her place looked like it had been gutted inside out. Good people always seemed to get fucked. And if so, how many more Judases are among the Ancients? How many more Calebs were out there waiting to pounce on their own mad quest for power. Rukash? Vrill? Boluz? _Doesn't matter_, Lawin thought. _Right now, I just have to find whatever I can._

_It seems there was a purging amongst the Ancients. _The Scion mused.

"Rukash wouldn't dare."

_Your Ana was his chief adversary. Eliminating her was tantamount to his drive for power. And in case you forget, you too._

Lawin ignored the Scion and walked to where he was sure he would find Anash, her study.

His shoulders slumped from what he saw. There was a body lying in pool of blood, right next to Anash's favorite chair. Lawin crouched down and gently turned the body. There was a sigh of relief and agony. It wasn't Anash but Hyall who looked back with dead, unblinking eyes.

"Damn!"

_We must flee!_

"I said shut up!"

Lawin looked for puncture wounds, burn marks, broken bones, anything to tell him what had done this. There was a broken neck and some perforations. Okay, one clue down. Lawin next went to the bookshelves to see what was taken. Nothing but torn papers and manuscripts. There were some signs of struggle but they were mostly vague. Anash was gone, not dead. Which meant she may have been abducted or escaped and hunted. Either way, he was in no position to help. The Ancients were completely worthless and creatures were still hunting him.

Lawin sat down and shook his head in dismay. Someone was going to pay! He thought angrily. The enormity of Hyall's death and Anash's disappearance weighted heavily on him. Even the threats on his life seemed miniscule to these events. Other than the original African mages, Hyall was the only ancient who truly understood the workings of the Slayer line. She knew the things that were slowly corrupting it. Her death meant that they wanted to keep her mouth shut on whatever she had found out. And whoever they were, were surely aligned with the Horde. Or were they? _But why was Hyall here?_ he thought. And Anash, did they fail with her? She was the only bulwark against Rukash's drive for power. Without her, Rukash was a virtual dictator of the Ancients. There was so much to consider at the moment. _Rukash had a hand in this,_ he thought. _But he'll most likely want me expelled first. Least of my problems. Right now we need to stay alive. That means away from this place. There could be more demons out there._

He turned to leave when he suddenly caught sight of a small drawing in blood near Hyall's body. It was the sign of a small warlock sect. Summoners and dimensional gate specialists. Lawin examined Hyall's fingers. She had drawn the symbol from her own blood, probably after whom or whatever had done this was through with her and left her to bleed to death. She was leaving a trail to lead to her murderer… that and hopefully, Anash.

"The dead speak." Lawin muttered absently.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Pain is Relative

Chapter 9: Pain is Relative

And how should I begin?

Ah yes, today I met my new Slayer. She was made of sugar, spice and everything that can give a forty year old man an ejaculation. She was kind, gentle and looking forward to being a Slayer. She told me of her interest in me of being her watcher. And I look forward to her optimistic nature in doing her duties as defender of good and humanity until one day she's killed by some demon.

There, is that what you want to read? Goddamn it all! The girl's looks like she belongs in the girl scouts: Blonde hair, with gray eyes and a personality that could pass her off as Jesus' baby sister. How in bloody hell am I going to train her into a killing machine?

Just so you know I don't like being a watcher. So if you're reading this now. Piss off!

Aidan "Drinking, Whoring" Traverse

2005

When Aidan was introduced to Ashley Townes, his new Slayer, he wanted to find the nearest pub and get drunk. The girl was barely sixteen, and only recently called. She was bubbly and very much a child in all respects, a far cry from the hell raising Brigid, his former ward. Ah Brigid, now there was a Slayer if there ever was one: Wild, Tough and older by a year to Aidan who was barely twenty at the moment (and the youngest to graduate from the Watcher's Academy). Poor dear Brigid lost her favorite watcher when the stuffy authorities caught her and Aidan doing the "Bed Fraternization" sin. Aidan got yelled at, and a temporary transfer, while Brigid got a reputation for being another Faith. Aidan did research for the council's archives until one day, he was mysteriously appointed to a special mission to America or as Aidan would like to call it, "the bloody Yank colonies."

Now, away from home, Aidan didn't regret the loss of a relationship or position. After all what was between he and Brigid was just skin deep and he hated being a watcher. Hey, he was a twenty year old guy. What did the council expect when they set him up to watch over a nubile young woman? So upon arriving in the watcher's HQ in California, William Glessing, director of operations, gave Aidan a speech about following the rules and not running a three-ring circus like he did in his previous tours of duty. No gadding about in hostile situations without a backup. No using of magick without proper authorization (even when it is necessary). No "borrowing" of weapons from other watchers. No using of firearms like you're a damn yank. No stockpiling of "alcoholic beverages". And the worst of all, No flirting or sleeping with the Slayers!

Aidan was fine with the rules and he was rather nonchalant about it too. Things change in the field; rules don't apply so easily out there. And once out there, who was going to make sure the rules were enforced? Everybody in HQ knew of Aidan's history and they all whispered that he was another Wesley Wyndam Pryce in the making, an unstable rogue. But Aidan wasn't a rogue; he was just unstable – Period.

People in the office were busy and everybody thought that the newbies should get some easier assignments. So after several days of worthless sitting and small work, Aidan and his new Slayer, Ashley, were released to patrol a nearby hot spot near UCLA. The brass never talked about where they got their mysterious information from, but it seemed that there had been a lot of anonymous information passing their way lately. No questions asked. Aidan was glad that the leash was not as tight anymore and besides which, he planned a little detour after he saw some of the papers inside the office.

"You know you didn't have to come. I mean wandering around in spooky places is my job, right?" Ashley said shyly, Aidan went along with her.

"True. But I don't think the Watcher's council has any right to say what should happen in the field. Regulation or otherwise. You are, after all, the ones taking the brunt of fighting."

Ashley remained quiet after a moment and then spoke. "Is it true that you're ummm…. Never mind."

"A necromancer?" It was said matter-of-factly.

"No!" She turned red with embarrassment. "I mean, I hear people say that but I would never think you were that. I mean the council wouldn't let necromancers among them… would they?"

"They're just rumors…."

"Yeah, I'm sorry if I uh… said something. This whole Slayer thing is just new to me. And vampires and werewolves…whoah! I saw the movie _Leprechaun_ and… you are giving me the eye so I'll just shut up."

"You'll get used to it." Aidan smiled.

"Yeah. I mean I was… What I really wanted to ask was that well… umm… The girls in the building were talking about… you know…"

"I slept with my previous assignment?" Aidan was amused and smiling slyly. "Was that your real question?"

She nodded.

"I'd answer that Ashley but I don't think that's any of your business."

"Oh right, sorry! It's just well… You know, I just want you to know that I'm not that kinda girl. Ashley the Vampire Slayer. And don't get me wrong you're cute and all and you got that wicked accent which is hot but I guess that's me being a bimbo… but I don't think I'm ready to be in that kinda place like your… uh… former… girl…. thing… with a Slayer. And plus you're older and I'm barely sixteen… but I mean you're not that old. Like dad-old, I mean and… and you're my Watcher. But I just don't want to go around like. 'Hey I'm a Slayer. I can do guys left and right as if they're just tic tacs like Faith and Buffy… And…Oh Dammit, I'm ranting and I need to stop that. Stop ranting! Stop that!"

Aidan smiled at her girlish banter and assured her that he was capable of being strictly professional. After all, he explained later, Brigid was the one who made the first move that night. She chuckled at the story but both tried to pretend the tense conversation never happened.

Talk turned milder as they walked on, and the embarrassing topic of sex was avoided by both sides. The conversation was steered carefully to the watchers in England, the Slayers, the current problems and what Rupert Giles was doing about all that at the moment.

"So the disease is mystical?"

"As far as we can tell. But no one's died yet."

"What about the innocent people being attacked? Not everybody's who's had the sickness is a Slayer or a potential Slayer."

"Maybe they're just casualties of war. As far as reported, no one's really died of the infection. So even if this thing spreads, there will still be hope for a cure for them." As if he understood Ashley's fears Aidan offered what little comfort he could manage. "It hasn't hit here that strongly yet, Ashley (but he wanted to add there were already cases). And from what the doctors report the plague cannot indeed kill (… yet) It just causes them to be bedridden and feverish. We'll get through this, you'll see. This isn't the first time this has happened you know."

"It isn't?"

"No. The black plague, for example, was also mystical and…" Aidan cut himself off and cursed himself at his big mistake.

"The black plague? The one that wiped out a quarter of Europe? Wow, thanks man that's really comforting."

Aidan suddenly felt like an idiot. "Ashley, the plague may be mystical but the rumor that it is attacking Slayers specifically, is only a rumor. It could get me as much as it could get you." He was lying but he didn't know what else to say. "You'll be fine. You seem very brave."

"You think so?" She blushed a little at the compliment and instantly became somber. "So this isn't a normal patrol. What are we doing here exactly?"

"There have been some reports of sporadic demonic activity in this area which seems very unusual in itself. Glessing thinks its all rubbish but I think we should check it before we proceed to our route."

"You think it's related to the crisis?" The place was a small knoll a few blocks from the edge of town.

Aidan squinted his eyes and reached for something in his overcoat. "I don't know. But I think they are." He pointed at a pack of vampires that stood like a walled column.

Ashley quickly turned to her watcher. "Got my back?"

"Of course." Aidan pulled out a small slender stake which he held like a knife.

Ashley leaped into action and the battle began. There were only four vampires but they all seemed tough somehow, big and more imposing than the usual variety Ashley had fought before. Not your usual scavenger. For some reason, which Aidan could not quite understand, the vampires were not surrounding them as he had expected instead they just stood like a cordon for something… What?

Then suddenly Aidan saw a cloaked figure running from the fracas, he had an escort of several more vampires. Ashley was busy fighting off the three vampires while Aidan was fighting off the fourth; he had shifted his attention for only a short period which cost him to fall on his ass. He had expected the vampire to pounce on the kill but it just broke off to surround his Slayer. Smart, he thought. They had a battle plan. Kill the Slayer then her Watcher. Aidan was about to show them the flaw of their strategy when something caught the corner of his eye.

Ashley was busy fighting off a vampire when Aidan yelled at her. "Duck."

"What?"

"Duck!"

Ashley managed to throw herself away from the flying headstone which hit two of the vamps. It broke with a crash a few feet away.

One of the vampires saw the flying headstone and shouted back to the sorcerer. "Just run. Forget about us here. Just get the missive to Vorathon." The sorcerer and his escorts obeyed running away as fast as they had come.

"Are you okay?" Aidan crawled to his Slayer.

"Yeah, uh… what the hell…"

"Sorcerer. Over there. They look like they're in a hurry. The vampires must just be escorts." The vampires were picking themselves up trying to cover the sorcerer's retreat. Aidan smiled. "This is where the real fun starts."

At that Aidan rushed past his Slayer and slammed against the robed figure, releasing a small chest unto the ground. The move was so daring that the escorts could only blink at the suicidal attack. As for Ashley, she thought that it was mad because now Aidan was surrounded by vampires and was wrestling a very angry sorcerer. She ignored her own pain, broke off from her battle and rushed to defend her Watcher, dusting vampires left and right as fast as she could to get to Aidan.

Aidan was gaining the upper hand over his prey, the pinioned sorcerer, but he was suddenly knocked off by a powerful blast. He staggered from the impact and as soon as he could stand up again, all that remained of his sorcerer was a fleeing figure being cordoned off with the help of several more vampires.

Aidan cursed under his breath. It was a stupid move but not entirely worthless, the sorcerer left a small chest behind. Perhaps that might lead to something about the activity of this place. But before he could celebrate the vampires had to be dealt with. Which was why it was a good thing that they were running away. Ashley was able to fight better now that the vampires were now prioritizing retreat.

Aidan managed to stake one but before he could proceed against another straggler he caught sight of his Slayer being pinned down by a vampire, she was about to be bitten. He was too far away and there was a vampire standing in front of him now making sure that he would not pursue those that had narrowly escaped. _No choice_, he thought. With his hands, he reached out and squished the two remaining vamps, the one guarding him and the one pinning Ashley down. The pain of using his powers made Aidan feel like he was being electrocuted but he kept at it until he was able to reduce the vampires into a pile of dust. After which he fell down on his knees panting from a pain in his chest, like an iron barb.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Ashley was amazed by what had just happened.

Aidan didn't answer. He was too busy popping a painkiller into his mouth, which caused his face to relax somewhat.

"Super powers? Never mind… You'll tell me if you want." She didn't think she'd like the answers.

"I'm a necromancer."

"Oh I never… well, wow… They're true… Okay, my Watcher's a necromancer… that's not so bad, right? I mean that isn't bad because there are vampires with souls so there must be good necromancers, right? And I wasn't poking into your past, honest. You told me you were a necromancer all on your own. So…"

"Miss Townes!" Aidan's tone was harsh and he was pulling himself to his feet.

She only peeped.

"You can rant later. Right now, I need you to open this chest!"

Ashley obeyed and kicked the lock several times until it broke.

Inside were small bits and pieces of ancient scripts and texts. Aidan tried to read some of them but they required a better translation. He just handed them over for Ashley to keep as he found something that made his skin crawl. It was only an ordinary map but this one though, was not old or moldy. No, in fact it was a map of a place called Sunnydale. "We better get this to Malcolm." Bugger! This is no bloody coincidence. Anonymous information? More like a soddin' conspiracy!

"What does this mean?" Ashley asked.

"I don't know yet," Aidan replied.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Through the Looking Glass

Chapter 10: Through the Looking Glass

Tenth Entry

When we fled the Canyons when the migrating demonic wasps came, we had to leave most of what we have gathered over the years: clothes (from the hides of those I've killed), digging tools, bowls and some containers, weapons and some primitive utensils I've managed to scrape together. Unfortunately, a set of my journal was also among those left behind. All that remains of it now is the first entry which I, for reasons of comfort and sentiment, have kept inside my clothes as a source of nostalgia, perhaps a memento of what I had done to be here, and this, the latest installment.

Steven is now around four to six years old. The boy is greatness itself. His mind is incredibly sharp: his memory precise and photographic. The skills and training that I am giving him is bearing fruit wonderfully. He has killed many demons in these canyons, taking their flesh as clothing, their meat as food and their claws and jaws as trophies. If Angelus were here he would probably be as proud as I am of the boy, though I hate myself for thinking such thoughts. All these happened in the canyon. We are now walking at a relentless pace through a jungle. There are no fruit trees but there are plenty of demons to eat here.

It's been almost two months since we have entered this jungle. It is the vilest place I've known, worse than the canyon; poisonous insects everywhere, plants and trees that secrete noxious gas, demons that are shaped like monkeys; and the perpetual droplets of poisonous water from the canopy of leaves that secrete them. We adapted to our new home. It is here that I continued Steven's training. Expanding his combat skills and weapons training, tracking (by tying him to trees and forcing him to _hunt_ me down), traps and medical aid. These sessions were enjoyable - Good times.

Beyond fighting, regardless of the impracticality of it, I also endeavored to teach him the European classics, which I can recall up to a point. I taught him how to read by tracing words on the ground as well as mathematics and other sciences. He learns but I'm afraid he does so to please me, and given that there is no use for Locke or an Aquinas in killing demons, I cannot say I can blame him. He is more interested in fighting and hunting, and given the circumstances in this damned place, I cannot blame him. But nevertheless I continue to teach him about the civilizations of man. He will need it someday… when we return.

Innocence and brutality is a cosmic mixture within the boy. Despite our happi… contentment (is a better word) in this place, everything is dangerous. It was not a place to live. It was place of death and killing! And yet heaven shines even in hell, for bad as all these may seem, our timing in being here was also fortuitous, because for the first time we have encountered a demon that seemed capable of talking.

It was incredible and provident.

The boy wanted to eat it but I, of course, restrained him. (Ah, Youth!) I captured the demon, small and hardly bigger than Steven, and brought it back to camp. I wanted to know what it knows. Time spent in a canyon full of primitive demons has caused me to think that Quartoth had no intelligent demons at all. Apparently, I was wrong.

It took only, probably, a few days to learn the demon's language. Yes, my mind is very sharp just like Steven's - I say this now without vanity, simply a fact. The demon was very open to us because of my cunning – that and torture.

The creature spoke a language that it claimed was spoken by the most powerful demons in this world – Kluthu'kar, it said. It seems that beyond this forest there are several mountains that hide a number of cities beyond it, cities that are built by the demons of this damned world. In addition to the geography, it also told us many things – customs, legends, ideas and who and what had the power - all of which was evil and foul.

I did not know what all the information garnered meant for me and Steven, but I was fairly certain that we had to know about these places and their inhabitants. The knowledge gained from such a place may be crucial to our very survival. And so, on the next day, we packed camp and started out of the jungle, much to Steven's chagrin. He wanted to hunt down more monkey-like demons inhabiting thick-trunk trees around here.

The demon we captured? I'm wearing it now.

Stanford

The memories of Quartoth were becoming more vivid with each passing day. Earthquakes. Brimstone and fire raining ceaselessly from the sky. Plague filled poison swamps. Demonic Beasts that devoured each other, maiming and destroying in an orgasmic frenzy of lustful joy. Dark, demon cities, where torture was art and warlock sorcery, a religion.

Blood sacrifices. Demonic plagues. Beautiful, twisted corruptions that consumed the mind until there was only husks of madness. Archaic Demon proto-languages spoken to summon a sky of destruction. Plagues flowed like rivers into the lungs knocking out every sensation of life. Curses, markings, potions, enchantments. The stuff of life in a world that twisted it into macabre abominations. That was Connor's legacy. The legacy of the Destroyer.

He remembered them all. And now he remembered the darkness of the calamities of destructions. Los Angeles. This world, not Quartoth, was having disasters that he saw only in Quartoth or at the very least, other hell worlds. The earthquakes, hurricanes and storms - they were spells. Dark, demonic spells! He knew it somehow. They were small, but he knew in his gut what they were. It was calling out to an innate knowledge within him, leading all the way back to when he first embraced his dark heritage to survive.

Demons were causing these calamities and they were spreading exponentially. They could be dismissed as small for now, but in a few more weeks, days…

Connor snapped his eyes wide open. "Oh my God!"

He looked at the TV. An earthquake had recently hit Yokohama, Japan. On other channels there were hurricanes and storms. They reported one thing: massive and indiscriminate infrastructure damage.

"There's nothing indiscriminate about these attacks," He muttered.

Connor grabbed his coat and made for the door. He needed to take a walk. Lose himself and stop thinking. He knew that it was only a matter of days until these calamities will grow to biblical proportions and once it did, the invasion would begin. He had seen a dozen of these cases in Quartoth. Demon factions used to do them against one another all the time. But here?

_What did that guy call the army again?_ he asked himself. _The Horde, I think._

_I have to do something. Hiding my head in the ground is not going to solve anything. The next attack is coming and it's close here in California. I have to do something. I have to warn my family. That's the best I can do for now. That, and hope that the Slayers and Angel, if he's still alive, and guys like him will be able to stop it._

_Warn my family! What about the other? What about Tracey? And my roommates? And my neighbors? And my friends? And all the people I've known all my life? What about them?_

_But what am I going to say? "Hey, everybody! See those disasters on the news? They're actually a demonic conspiracy that's planned for an upcoming apocalyptic invasion." Smart solution Reilly, you idiot!_

_I have to do something, though. I could follow wherever this is coming from and… _

_And what? You'll go all Destroyer? Maybe if I find this then…then maybe I'll know what to do next. _

_I promised myself I would just walk away. Finding Angel was a bust. So why am I sticking my neck out again, like a moron! Yet here I am again, walking straight into that same life I promised myself I would walk away from. Terminal insanity? Maybe. After all, I'm supposed to be half Irish._

"See Connor, you can't walk away."

Connor looked back at the familiar voice. Angel smiled warmly at him and just like that the image blurred into Darla and back to Angel. Connor slowly closed the door, forgetting that he wanted to go out.

"The First?"

The image nodded.

"What happened to Darla?"

"Oh, I figured you were too much of a momma's boy, so I decided on a more masculine theme this time."

_I'm delirious. _"So First huh? You a Demon? An Angel? Or just another one of the voices in my head."

The image laughed. "Oh, More than that."

"Higher being?"

"If you want to look at it that way."

"Great. More of those! Look, I have Comparative Literature in about half an hour and I haven't really slept well last night. So if you don't mind… Go away."

"Hmmm… I don't think sleep is what you need right now or you wouldn't be going out to have another one of your 'walk and argue with yourself.' Certainly not with all those things circling around your head these days. Plagues, demons, Quar'toth and all. You know what's coming, son."

"Not your son."

"I know but I like to get into character. You know it's coming, because you happen to be the best at it in that wonderful place called Qu... Hmm. The Destroyer."

"Don't remind me!"

"Oh but you need to hear this. After all, you're not exactly human."

"No, but I'm not a demon either!"

"Course, not slick! Well, not the variety we have here or any other place. But make no mistake you are one. You're a new model… and I'm just getting hives all over my hiney thinking of what you can do."

Connor was suddenly alarmed. He didn't know what he is. Holtz didn't know either; neither did anybody or anything in Quar'toth. "I'm listening. But if this goes back to that abomination crap… you'd better hope you're non-corporeal enough to continue to exist."

The Angel image laughed. "You know what, Holtz taught you to hate demons, evil and all of that lily white Puritan Protestant horse shit but what he was really doing was teaching you to hate yourself."

"Point?"

"You're a demon, Connor. Holtz knew this. But as I've said before that's not why you're special. And the answer lies not with you being a demon but with the nature of your birth.

Most demons on this earth cannot be here in their pure form. Vampires? Scary with fangs and their faces." Angel/First put on his game face and then reverted back again. "Oh, believe me they look a lot scarier in their purer form and greener too. So there are the impure manifested demons that kill and maim on a daily basis. And then there are pure demons. Demons like…"

"You."

"More than that. Don't you even want me to finish?"

"Two kinds of demons on this world. I'm special. Got it. Sorry, but my mommy told me not to listen to Satan." Connor started to walk away from the First.

The First laughed. "Then you won't know how you break the rules!"

Connor stopped. "Break what rules?"

"The rules that govern pure demons and the impure manifested ones."

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"The demons that are here must play by our rules. Corporeal manifestation. Limits. Weaknesses. Even death. Vampires can be destroyed. So can werewolves. Et cetera, et cetera. While higher demons must content themselves to playing from a higher plane they also can't be destroyed, like Wolfram and Hart. But sometimes, things overlap. A pure being, let's say Jasmine…" Connor winced at the mention of the name. "Cannot manifest themselves into this world without corrupting their essence. In order to play in this world, demons have to submit themselves to its limits, to its laws, thus becoming impure, like vampires. And when I say impure I mean weaknesses. Reduced powers. Sensations. Et cetera. In short, a demon cannot be pure while in this world. But you…"

"Are a paradox."

"Bingo! You have all the powers of a hell god. It's still at its infancy mind you, but it is growing. It's not weakening or affected by laws. It destroys them. When you killed Jasmine… When you punched that hole into her head… I knew that old warlock training was still there! That particular pure entity could only have been killed by another pure entity, by you. And, you also brought her here! You sired her! A first in our history! Sure, she was weakened, but oh! You gave her a nice big visa so that she could visit this place!" The image fluctuated a bit, as if in joy.

"You, kiddo, were the only weakness that Jasmine ever really had. She needed you to father her but at the same time you were the one true danger to her as well. People like her… Well not really people but you get where I'm going, right? People like her don't worry about death. Hell, death is their bitch. They can snap their fingers like that and it's done. You know why? Because it's their game. It's their rules. And they can change it and screw it and twist it however they want, whenever they want.

"Oh ho, but you? You're beyond their rules. You're beyond their reach. And they can't really control you or alter your destiny. That's why Sahjahn feared you. That's why Jasmine wanted you on her side because you were the only thing on this green earth that could destroy her. Even when Angel bargained for your memories, he and those idiots, the senior partners, couldn't really control you. And why? Because you are unstable and unpredictable! And you surprised us all up there quite handily."

"Then I went psycho!" Connor said deadpan.

"Yeah, that was kinda stupid."

"Since you seem to know a lot. Care to explain what I am? How I'm supposed to be an anomaly."

"Love to." The first walked around and tried to take an academic look. "Remember those old writings you found in your father's stuff? Well, my stuff." The image gestured at its current form. "There was a passage there regarding how you would not be born. And it came true but that wasn't the punch line. Those weren't really prophecies. As I've said before, you really are unprecedented and so the prophecies about you… are not really prophecies so much as they are really more of descriptions of your nature. Like 'abominations can't exist so they can't be born.' So you got a prophecy dash descriptive crap written about that aspect of your nature. 'The child will not be born.' But you overcame that little obstacle didn't you? Darla staked herself and well… That much I can tell you and as for the rest, like Sahjahn's crap, they're just lies fabricated by craven creatures afraid of you. To try and manipulate what you believe and the belief of people around you. Oh and speaking of Sahjahn, whatever happened to that guy's head anyway?"

Connor winced and tried to look away.

"Oh, right you buried it in your backyard. Just couldn't resist the temptation, huh?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Hey… not judging. But you gotta admire that old Quartoth training. Keeps popping up when you least expect it. Anyhoo, those predictions you've taken are not really predictions, strictly speaking, but more like qualifications, that guys like you," the First pointed a finger at Connor, "need to meet in order to be a full pledged freak show. And so those little books and writings in their fancy shmancy archaic demon crap, won't really tell you about your future, they are really designed to identify an abomination slash anomaly and give it a full encyclopedia report. And you kiddo fit the profile cut and paste."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything! Weren't you listening to me? God! You kids these days! For example, you were not born. Darla killed herself and turned to ash and dust and 'poof!' you! _Not born._ Want another example? How about you not being human and at the same time not being demon. Higher beings and pure primal demons like Jasmine can't manifest themselves into this world as matter of cosmic law. Yet you managed to break through that law and fathered her! Pure demons cannot be killed, yet Jasmine got a hole in her head because of you! Are you listening? I don't want to have to repeat myself again!

"Sahjahn, a demon that can cheat death, travel through time and alter destiny can't even escape death from your hands, can't predict how you were going to kill him and thus, you know… killed him. You're the first pure demon born into a world where only impure, weakened demons can exist. You are unprecedented, a neo demon! You cannot be corrupted or controlled by this world's laws. You couldn't be diminished. You are pure and eternal. Unbound by destiny or fate, free to create your own destiny and empire! If that's what you want. You cannot be controlled by prophecies and the oracle can't see what you will do next.

You are a pure born demon, by nature of fulfilling all the qualifications of a paradox, and yet you are here, in this corrupt, diminished world that saps the powers of any pure demon that enters it, pure as any higher evil. Whether you like it or not you are bound into this world! If you are willing to accept it."

"I'm not a hell god," Connor said flatly.

"Not yet," The First answered.

"But I'm also free to walk away."

The First looked angry. "No one can control your destiny. No one can manipulate your road or lock you to certain choices. But you don't live in a vacuum boy! Think of your darling family."

"Stay away from them!"

The First laughed and suddenly looked afraid. "Your mood seems to be a little hostile. I think I'd better leave. After all, you're about to get real busy."

"Wait! Why are you telling me this? Do you think you can control me by giving me information? Think again!"

"Kiddo. I know you're going to try and fight off those demons creating those little quakes and diseases. And because you've chosen to do that… means you are serving my will." The image of Angel laughed then disappeared. It was right.

Connor didn't know whether to believe it or not; to listen or not. But his worst fears had been confirmed, and for the First or whatever it was, planting the seed was enough.

Eleventh Entry

I have had little chance to write. I beg forgiveness.

It's been almost two years now. At least, it feels that way. Steven certainly looks two years older (and his eyes seem to say that he is older than that). The jungle was bigger than expected by the way, which I later learned was called the land of perpetual sorrow. The climbing of the mountains was difficult in comparison, especially since it was full of ice at the top. The long trek was time consuming and, usually, Steven and I would pitch camp somewhere on the mountains to rest.

It was during these quiet times that I taught him about his father, Angelus and his mother, the whore known as Darla. He was pained just as I was pained by the stories I told him: He, by the realization that he was as foul as the darkness that he had fought and killed since his earliest memories and I, for hurting him through my words.

But truth is truth and I will not embellish it. Which is why I told him that I was using him to kill his real father, a painful and cynical enterprise with no foreseeable outcome. To my great relief, Steven said: "I know. It is part of the darkness that I must face."

I was encouraged by these words. I continued on with stories about my family, stories of his parent's atrocities and all the murky ambiguity that has come to rule my life since. It was painful to us both. When it became intolerable for me to recall the people I had lost, I would steer Steven's lessons to more familiar things – literature, history, philosophy and all the knowledge I had - just to take away the pain (I was also somewhat of an intellectual and I was glad that my memory was still dependable that I may impart these to the boy). I think Steven knew the reason when I digress and I am most grateful to him for not mentioning anything.

The weeks spent climbing the mountain were the happiest days I had with my surrogate son. True, it was dangerous and life threatening but I think that it was in these quiet moments that I and Steven truly began to bond as father and son.

I taught him as we climbed, as we slept, as we fought for our very lives. He learned many things during the climb, things that would enrich his mind and toughen his soul… a soul I hope is not of the darkness.

When Connor was only a child, his adopted father, Holtz sent him to powerful warlocks to study dark magic. The puritan fanatic didn't like it and neither did his son, Steven, but as with all things in Quartoth, it was necessary.

Connor would never forget his first lesson in the demonic city. It was about how dark energies flowed, how they went from one place to another - raw materials that could be focused and fashioned to create doom and destruction. In order to understand the powers of a warlock, one had to understand the darkness that flowed through them, negative energy created and unleashed into the world. A river, an ocean of demonic energy to tap, to mold into unimaginable power. Connor was special as a warlock in the sense that he didn't need to channel these dark energies. He had more than enough inside him.

So when news of disasters and calamities hit the TV. They may normally seem random. And they are, considering them rationally. Unfortunately, they were following a pattern that Connor had been feeling lately, a pattern of dark energy that he was connected to, yet not a part of. Demonic energy had been flowing with more intensity than usual and there were these events taking place. No coincidence there. That was what the calamities had in common; similar affinities to dark energy.

Connor made diagrams while still in his dorm room. The following morning he went back to LA. The energy had been forming nexuses and one of it was concentrated near the outskirts of Los Angeles. This meant that whatever was using this much concentrated mystical evil was making a lot of noise. They were also spread out all over the world but always near where a disaster will take place. All this wasn't so pressing, but for Connor finding a nexus near LA, the term 'choice' ran right out the window. His home was there, his friends and his family. They were there and it was about to be threatened. Hell was coming to town. It wanted the Destroyer back.

Connor followed the energy trail to a small abandoned warehouse near the waterfront in Santa Monica. Nothing conspicuous, but he was trained to see what others couldn't. And dark energy was really fertile. It was flowing freely but diverted onto this place to create the nexus. As he approached the place, he smelled about five or six demons and three people, female by their scent. _Sacrifice! I have to do something. _Connor followed the trail while laying low among the stacks of boxes and crates of the warehouse, dodging imaginary eyes that could be anywhere.

Connor slowly crawled to a big office on the second floor. He could hear chanting and a lot of it from different voices. He peeked into a large room and immediately saw a small passage leading underground. As he followed the path deeper and deeper to where the voices were, the sounds became clearer. The chanting was very familiar; they were concentrating dark energies for something big.

"The Dark Ones were. The Dark Ones are. The Dark Ones will be. Send forth your power and reclaim this world for thy needs."

What Connor saw at the end of the cavern was not meant for human eyes. Five short and seemingly fragile demons, dressed in cloaks were creating a dark cloud that seemed to be made of flesh over a cauldron of blood. Next to them were three girls, teenagers. One was bound, gagged and unconscious while the two appeared to be covered in a grayish brown demonic carapace.

At a signal from one of the demons one of the girls covered in scales raised a knife over their victim.

"Stop!" Connor jumped from his hiding spot. _Oh real smart Reilly!_

The demons and the two girls just looked at him for a moment and then the demons pounced on him while the two girls slit the victim's throat. Her blood spilled all over the floor and then markings brightened in the air then dissipated.

_Like all the bad things that keep happening in my life, it starts out with a girl. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save Darla. The girl in the warehouse. Cordelia. Put down your guard for moment and you end up picking what's left of your body on the sidewalk, thinking how the hell you got there. _

Connor easily fought off the demon cultists, hurting three of them quite handily before they escaped. The girls were covering their retreat. He was about to attack the two possessed girls when one of them punched him clear across the room. Connor blinked in incomprehension. These were human girls. He could tell by their smell and heartbeat. But the strength!

In about a second Connor was up and ready to fight back but soon found the two girls running away in fright. He wanted to follow but soon heard the footsteps of maybe two or three girls, judging from their smell, running into the empty room. Connor figured that two demonic girls kicking his ass was enough for one day. He found a place and hid. What he saw next was perplexing. Two girls entered first. They were carrying melee weapons of a sword and an axe.

_Slayers_, Connor thought.

"We're late," one of the girls said. "They already escaped."

"Room's cleared. They jumped before they could finish. Must have heard us coming here. Whoah. What happened here? Looks like there was fight." As the other Slayer said this, another girl went inside the room. This one was a brown haired girl, she was carrying a crossbow.

The girl with the crossbow leaned down and tried to examine the ritual that was just done. "Looks like we interrupted their little party. Whatever spell they were trying, it's gone now."

_No, they've finished._ But Connor didn't trust these girls, Slayer or not.

"Vi, what about Jessie? They slit her throat."

"Paula, shut up. And let me think. They got away. This means, they know about us being onto them. And this place looks like it was hit by a bus. Probably means someone is fighting them also. I don't know if that's good or bad but I'd better call Giles in London and see what he can do about Jessie and our situation."

One of the girls began to cry.

"Shell…" Vi tried to comfort the other Slayer.

"I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"Never saw a dead body before?"

The other girl shook her head. "I had dreams. I mean Slayer dreams but when you see it for real …"

"Shelley. I don't know, but you'll get used to it eventually. You're a Slayer. Start acting like one."

They talked some more while Connor slipped out. He now knew that Slayers were involved but something in his gut told him that even they were having trouble with what this thing is.

_Demon warlock cults are trying to create concentrated disasters. Everybody's telling me to walk away. I still don't know what the hell happened to Angel. I get jumped in the oracular well. Bastards, from who knows where are running around telling me that a war is coming. Imaginary creatures calling themselves, the first, telling me things I had no idea about myself. People are trying to kill me. And now human sacrifices! Hell, and exams just finished. _

Connor jumped from the warehouse's top floor and into the alley below. He was following the scent of the possessed girls to wherever it was they were going. The Slayers in the warehouse weren't following; probably because they were trying to deal with the corpse. Connor kept running until he reached a dead end with the scent.

"Dammit!"

Suddenly a memory of Quartoth imposed itself. The dark energy here. Magic! They used a portal to hide their tracks. Connor dug into his memory and suddenly remembered the incantation. It required dark energy but Connor refused to let his bigotry go beyond necessity.

Connor opened the portal that was only recently closed, it was hard but with the flick of his wrist it was done. It was dark and swirling with a dark reddish glow – black magic, alright. Connor suddenly felt sick at what he had done. He **still** couldn't believe that he was a warlock. But here was a portal that said he was.

As he stepped through the portal Connor saw a place that was stinking of demonic sorcery. He could feel it by just walking.

The cavern was having the same chanting that he had heard when he was still in the warehouse. The voices became louder. The whole escapade felt like being in a movie theater when you first enter it: Dark, Foreboding and oppressive on the senses.

As he kept walking, he tried to formulate a plan. The incantations were being directed from a specific geometrical positioning. That meant that who or whatever was doing this was keeping a map for making the targets. If he could get that map and hand it over to the watcher's council then maybe they could do something about it. Well, he was hoping they could do something about it.

He sneaked his way through the dark, cavernous portal, exploring what had happened to his quarry. To his surprise, he had found that the cavern at the end of the tunnel was full of demons cultists. He found none of the creatures he was looking for, but the spells that the ones present were unmistakable: They were creating a ground zero for some major disaster.

This was good, he thought, because then the map he was looking for would be nearby and with it, the geographical coordinates for the incantations. But where would they be kept?

Connor suddenly caught sight of what he was looking for: A large room with a bolt type door that clearly belonged to the head warlock. From his memories of Quortoth, Connor knew that all important texts by warlock cults were sequestered within the vaults of the highest leaders, a way of maintaining personal power. Connor was sure of what he knew and how to get what he wanted.

Connor began to draw a mystical sign on the ground, it glowed with demonic energy. Minutes later, there was a cloud of poisonous smoke all over the cavern.

The Ancients haven't contacted him. Urkonn hadn't contacted him. And Anash, the only Ancient that he knew and could freely approach, was gone. The evidence pointed to a certain conclusion but Lawin didn't want to jump into it until he had followed through with every detail. This meant, of course, exploring an option of following the symbol that Hyall drew with her last ounce of life.

The symbol was a dimensional incantation to open a portal into a demonic camp that was operating in a small magically created cavern. Warlocks and dark sorcerers used the cavern where they communed with demons from other dimensions.

Finding the portal and opening it had been difficult.

Lawin sneaked his way into the cavern in the form of a scorpion. When he found an opening and several armed guards he knew he had found what he was looking for. The cavern was small but was full of demonic markings and symbols, the kind that Lawin was warned about.

None of the demons seemed to notice Lawin as he skittered in his scorpion form into their lair. He wasn't really interested in what they were doing at the moment. He wanted answers and finding the quarters of the head warlock wasn't really that hard: It was the biggest.

But it was also sealed tight and guarded. Not a problem.

As Lawin crawled his way nearer to the door he kept hearing voices on the other side. Voices which he listened to, when he managed to get near a crack on the wall.

The voices were male.

"She's gone."

"Have you seen the body?"

"We destroyed the entire place, scoured her path with flames. Believe me, she is dead."

"You don't know her like I do. Her powers could easily overcome something as inconsequential as being digested."

Lawin didn't like what they were talking about. It felt as if they knew something he didn't. He knew he shouldn't but Lawin took a chance and sneaked his way through the crack. What he saw next drove him to rage and terror. Urkonn was seated nicely in front of the head warlock, looking very much like they were having afternoon tea.

"It's too bad Sebassis is no longer with us," Urkonn said. "He was so damned civilized that monster! An Enemy, yes but still so civilized. The Ancients didn't like dealing with the blackthorn but ah… necessities!"

"If Angel killed him, then Sebassis deserved to die." The warlock muttered. "Speaking of which, what happened to the damnable Vampire?"

"Dust, from what I heard. Good riddens, I say. The powers are too presumptuous with their pawns"

"Hmmm. Too bad we can't say the same with your young Scion."

"Don't worry about the boy. The little whelp will join Anash in hell soon enough, that is, if she was truly killed by your boorish friends."

"Don't imply things you'll regret Urkonn. Anash is dead, I said it once and I'll say it again."

It was official, Lawin thought, Rukash, his people and Urkonn had killed Anash.

"Besides," The head warlock continued. "It seems to me that you've failed to kill your quarry twice already. Rukash might not like the news of you being so inept. Remember, the boy is still the Scion. His powers of mystical manipulation might prove a liability in the long run."

Urkonn snarled. "The boy will die! Oh, he will die!"

"Well and good, Urkonn no one has questioned your commitment. But fortunately, that's no longer your problem now."

"What do you mean?" Urkonn flushed with rage but kept his temper in check.

"Vorathon, wants me to take charge of assassinating all the Ancients who would not side with Rukash, and when I say all, it includes your Scion."

"What!" Urkonn flared. "That's my job! This can't be happening!"

"Rukash already approves."

"I don't care what Rukash approves. You really think you could kill De la Vega? Do you have any idea what that boy is capable of? I should skin you alive for such stup…"

"Watch your mouth Urkonn. We may be allies now but you should not make the mistake of thinking we will stop trying to kill you or your masters. Just because we have this truce now doesn't mean we'll be friends forever. One day the fog will clear and you'd best think on where you'll be when that happens because wherever it is, it won't be pleasant…" The head warlock then smiled. "And besides, accidents tend to happen. Even Rukash cannot do anything about accidents, eh?" The head warlock was smiling slyly.

Urkonn laughed back. "You are amusing!" then he stood, indicating that he had enough. "But threaten me like that again and I'll…."

An explosion occurred from the outside of the head warlock's shelter.

"What was that?" The two shouted simultaneously.

When no one answered the head warlock summoned his orderly into his quarters.

"It's him!" the orderly answered breathlessly. "The Destroyer. It's here!"

"What!" The head warlock looked at Urkonn distressfully. "What's he doing here?"

"Ha Ha Ha! Oh ho. It seems our other boy just won't walk away. Good luck, Tuek. I'll see you later." Urkonn began to leave then added with a grin. "I'll see you again when you are less disposed. But in the event you might not make it, please appoint a successor soon. Perhaps he'll be more competent than you."

The head warlock snarled an insult at the departing Urkonn. But the demon didn't notice it; he sensed something suspicious in the surroundings and suddenly caught sight of the crack. Lawin skittered away and hoped that Urkonn hadn't seen him. The orange, horned demon squinted his eyes in unsuppressed suspicion.

The head warlock barked another curse at Urkonn and followed his men outside to fight the intruder.

Lawin scuttled away to get a view of what was happening. There was poisonous gas everywhere – demonic poisonous gas. He saw Connor on one side rampaging against a wall of demons. They were falling before him.

Lawin silently cursed Connor Reilly for disturbing his stake out and skittered away to the nearest exit, hoping that no one had seen him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Once More, The Drama Begins

Chapter 11: Once More, The Drama Begins.

Sixteenth Entry.

Around eight days ago, we have encountered the demons that call themselves the Kluthu. They are warlocks! Their cities are massive, no human civilization could compare with their enormity… or their evil.

But just as well, I wish we had never gone over the mountain. I wish we had stayed in that wretched jungle. The first Kluthu we met, Steven and I, were forced to kill. It was a most difficult battle and seeing as how they fought without honor with their wretched magicks, it was next to impossible. But nonetheless we have won. And now we are being pursued for such a victory! We had to leave our camp in haste again, forcing me to leave some of my entries behind.

The Kluthu are served by various demons, all of which are powerful either of magick or of brute strength. They are pursuing us relentlessly, always on our heels. Steven, the poor boy, is doing most of the fighting for this old man getting too old. And though he is masterfully killing the curs by the dozens he was already wounded several times. I think the human body could only take so much punishment, and one that is not even a man's yet.

The Kluthu want us alive, I keep thinking to myself. More importantly, they want Steven alive… The reason for which I already have a vague idea as to why.

The dear boy is a celebrity in hell!

But enough of that! Steven and I are building traps now. We hope that as we move again very soon (after I finish writing this entry down) the traps will stop the Kluthu and their minions, allowing us ample time to retreat back to the mountains and into the forests, hopefully, losing them there.

I don't kno…. The entry is torn and bloodied at this point

Connor's plan of retrieving the documents he needed consisted of making a quick and brutal stab at the head warlock's quarters while a cloud of poisonous gas covered his run - blitzkrieg tactics. It was all about speed, if the warlocks in the cavern gathered their forces then Connor would be in very serious trouble. There was another thankful variable, the sentries were easy prey and Connor didn't see any of the demon women that he had fought earlier in the warehouse.

Several cultist demons threw themselves at Connor but he easily fought them off while frying the others with a spiking red lightning from his hands. The poisonous smoke screen was still covering most of the cavern and none could get an accurate sight on where Connor was. He was moving too fast. Cultists fell like flies when they inhaled the noxious gas surrounding their base, writhing on the floor, muttering counter spells to purge their bodies of the foreign substances. Others simply fell down dead. Connor, though, didn't mind the cloud of death, he was immune, he was in his element, he was suddenly back in Quar'toth.

Connor reached the head warlock's room. He looked around for a moment and saw what he was looking for: Papers containing glyphs and enchantments and markings. Maps! He was sure with the demonic markings. He grabbed them. It was time to go.

But before he could leave, Connor felt a blow on his back. He flew forward, still clutching his papers. He turned around and saw the head warlock clutching balls of flaming energy. They flew. He dodged them and rolled to a nearby desk and kicked it down as protection. The head warlock destroyed the desk with flick of his hand.

"You have a lot of guts coming here, you abomination." The head warlock walked in for the coup de grace, two of his followers were flanking him in case he needed assistance. "You should have listened… and just walk away!"

The dust cleared from the debris but there was no body. The head warlock looked around distressfully; his two immediate followers were dead. His other guards were struggling from the cloud of poison that was consuming every part of the cavern. No help was coming from them. He felt something behind him, turned around and saw two glaring black-red eyes staring at him.

"Hi," Connor said.

It took Connor less than five minutes to get out of the cavern and away from the ruckus he had created. Everything was almost great. He had escaped with reasonably less complications than expected and he had on his backpack what he came for. There were a few less demons for the world to worry about and he was home free with only a couple of bruises.

When he reached the place of the portal, however, something was wrong it was recently opened. Impossible he thought, all the demons and cultists were still back there. Unless….

Somebody had escaped ahead of him.

As Lawin jumped from the portal he felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. Someone had hit him just as he emerged out of it. He turned to see Urkonn standing over him, grinning malevolently.

"You should have just disappeared little traitor."

"Urkonn you overgrown son of a bitch! I'll hang what's left of your face on my wall."

"You and Anash deserve to die, boy! You and that whore should have known better than to cross us."

Lawin flashed a certain finger and then intoned a spell that would fry Urkonn, but it fizzled as he spoke the enchantments and Lawin was bombarded with pain in his head. "Arrgghhh!"

"Negation spell, boy! Can't use your powers here." Urkonn kicked him in the gut, throwing him across the alley.

Lawin spat a mouthful of blood. He was crawling but still conscious. Urkonn was approaching him, no magick, he was no match against the demon in hand to hand combat and so he knew that he was dead. Well goodbye, slick. Didn't I tell you were an idiot? Just as Urkonn was about to deliver the killing blow by stepping on his head. Urkonn was thrown across the place by something from behind.

"Hey, Stacie." Connor said to Urkonn. He was grinning maliciously. "Long time, no see."

"What is wrong with you two! Why can't you just walk away!" Urkonn was pulling himself to his feet.

"Hey Locklin. You know this guy?"

"It's Lawin you white boy. And yes, I have the dumb luck."

While Lawin spoke, Urkonn struck. Connor blocked the blow jumped back a few paces, tried a spell that fizzled and caused Connor to have a sharp pain in his head but he quickly got himself together and struck back with a kick instead. No magic! Connor smiled. He liked this kind of fight. Blood and Flesh. Pure and Simple.

Connor threw blows at every part of Urkonn's body. None of which seemed too give much effect. The overgrown demon reminded him of the **Beast**, big and deadly with no known weakness. Connor kept on like this until Urkonn managed a swipe with his hand and backhanded Connor against a far wall.

Urkonn wiped small dribble of blood from his mouth and smiled. "I was hoping to kill Lawin with my own hands but it looks like I'll just have to order my companions to help in killing you two." As he said this demons and cat like monsters were emerging from manholes and the dark part of the alley. "I never did fancy threesomes."

Connor was about to make another attack but Lawin grabbed the back of his shirt. "There's too many of them and they have spells in place."

"What kind of chicken shit reasoning is that?"

"Chicken shit reasoning that's going to keep us alive."

Connor looked over the entire alley. They were slowly converging on them. In a few more seconds, escape would not be possible.

"What do we do?" Connor asked.

"A reservoir's not far from here. I have a plan. Help me up."

"Can you walk?"

"Barely."

Connor dragged Lawin to his feet. Lawin limped while Connor fought off the demons. Urkonn saw that they were escaping but only exhorted his lackeys to fight, as if he was somehow afraid of the two of them together.

"Turn here. My bike's nearby."

Connor helped Lawin walk to a small enclosure where Lawin's motorcycle was hidden. Connor turned it on while he helped Lawin ride on his back.

"You know how drive one of these things?" Lawin asked.

"I learn fast."

"Uh, shit!"

The ride away from the alley to the reservoir had been the type where you bite your nails. The alleys were tight. Connor didn't get to the road because he didn't want to involve innocent bystanders with a pack of rampaging demons, so they maneuvered around the alleys until they were close enough to the reservoir.

Connor looked back to the demons that were chasing them, they moved like cheetahs. They were far behind but they were still catching up. Connor was panicking suddenly he made a mistake with his maneuvers and before they knew it, they were slamming against the ground and taking a mouthful of dirt. Thankfully they made it to their destination as they did.

"We're here," Connor said.

"Arrggh! You asshole! You wrecked my bike!"

"It's just a scratch."

The front wheel was nearly off. "You call that a scratch?"

"You can thank me for saving your life later. Come on."

As they bitched to each other, Urkonn reached a few yards away from them, his followers standing right next to him. He stomped on the fallen bike, destroying the bike with his leg.

"Urkonn! You son of a bitch!"

"Lawin. Time to join Amazarak."

At that, Connor threw a knife at Urkonn and followed through by creating a spell that caused Urkonn to be covered with poisonous gas, the negation spell was no longer around them. The demon staggered but was still up. He charged, struck Connor and Connor struck back. A few blows and they were brawling and knocking each other senseless. The other demons were encircling them now, wary of joining the fray but eager for the kill.

Lawin looked around for a moment. Connor had managed to drop Urkonn but the demon was clearly unscathed and was spoiling for more violence. The cat demons were gaining and were at the reservoir gate and Urkonn was just stalling them until more arrive. Suddenly, Lawin saw a ledge that led to open water.

"You know how to swim?" Lawin asked.

Connor followed Lawin's eyes. "I'm not diving in there."

"I'll take that as a yes. Urkonn can't swim. Hates water. So do his Garfields," Lawinb motioned at the cat demons.

Connor looked at the figure of Urkonn slowly rising up. "I guess we're going Baywatch."

A couple hours later, the boys emerged from the water soaking wet. When the two reached a safer place, a motel room in the part of town that didn't ask too many questions, Connor immediately threw Lawin against a wall and pinned him there.

"Remember when we last met?"

"Long talk?"

"You remember. I'm touched." Connor let Lawin slump to the floor, he was hurt bad but in no need of a hospital.

"So where are we?" Lawin asked.

"Random nondescript motel room in a seedy part of LA," Connor muttered.

"Whoah! I don't swing that way," Lawin joked.

"Really? I kinda thought you were gay by the way you dressed."

"Shaddup!"

Connor gave him a hand and dragged him to the couch.

"So, what were you doing there?"

"Me? What about you, mister 'this is not my life anymore?' What were you doing there?"

"The demons in that cavern are responsible for the recent disasters throughout the world. Tidal waves, earthquakes and the usual dooms day feelings. They aren't local. And when I say that, I mean they're not from this end of the universe."

"What made you think that?"

"The energy they were using could only be found from hell dimensions."

"How'd you… Oh, right. Warlock. I guess you know a lot about hell. So, let me get this straight. You were playing superhero down there?"

Connor only glared. "Your turn. What were you doing down there?"

Lawin considered lying but he wasn't sure if Connor would be on to him. "Someone I care about was attacked, disappeared. The people I've been working for have been suspecting that there was a traitor among them. Now one of them is dead and another is missing. So through the noble process deduction…" Lawin shrugged.

"Do you know who the traitor is?"

"No. But I have good idea who he might be."

"What is it that your people do anyway?"

"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew."

Connor saw that he wasn't lying. Whoever he was working for, they wanted him in the dark. "I respect that but you're still telling me why you followed me a few days back. And why you're still following me now."

"Back then? My orders. Don't know why but then again, they never tell me much. Personally, I think they were setting me up so you'd kill me."

"They're not far off about that." Connor went into the bedroom and began to change. Lawin was content to stay limp on the couch, too injured to move. "Why would your bosses want you dead anyway?"

"They don't. The people I'm working for are having a little civil war going."

_Little! Hah!_

"It just so happens that one of the factions want me dead because I'm more aligned with the other side. At least, that's what I think."

"So they were setting you up?"

"That's what I said."

"So, what were you doing in that place? The cavern."

"A few days ago, I was attacked in my apartment. Big John Woo shindig. Later, I found out that a woman of the people I was working for disappeared and I found her assistant dead in her home. My…uh employers haven't contacted me since then. And now, Urkonn…"

"Smurf guy?" Connor asked.

"Yeah. Wants me dead."

"And you know this Urkonn?"

"Yeah, he happens to be in the same job as I am."

"He's a demon."

"You'll be surprised the gray areas the Ancients get into."

Connor looked surprised and listened to more explanations and concluded that the people that this Lawin was working for had obviously betrayed him.

"So you see," Lawin continued. "You're not the only one being led around by the nose." Lawin paused for a moment then continued. "You really were trying to find a way to stop the disasters weren't you? I mean doing a good deed? And all that crap."

Connor looked him in the eye and answered. "My family lives near here. I'm not going to let anything happen to them."

The word family made Lawin wince. "Right, well, uh, how're your wounds?"

"Not too bad. Probably only about a hundred broken bones, give or take a Femur."

Lawin laughed. "Tell me about it." He grimaced as he remembered his own wounds, given generously by Urkonn.

Connor looked at the clock. The plan was to stay in the room for the remainder of the night and head out as soon as day break, they figured that they could probably make a run for it before their hunters get another lock on them.

"There's some pain killers in the medicine cabinet. Do something about that wound in your leg, man, it makes me wanna puke." Lawin's leg had a large gash where one of the demons had slashed him, the muscles were visible.

"Fine," Lawin limped to the bathroom. Lawin knew that he could escape if he wanted but for the moment he had to know what the Ancients wanted with this creature. "You take the first watch."

"Got it." Connor had more questions for Lawin but right now, he was too tired as he knew that the other guy was too tired.

Seventeenth Entry.

I am now caged like an animal.

I was such a fool to stop and rest like that. Now my son and I are captured… separated. I was brought here, in what appears to be a cavern, no cages, no guards, just an eternally narrow labyrinth with sparse lighting, a maze. I was dragged unconscious into one part of the cavern, a lighted room that was a sanctuary to the darkness beyond and chained to a wall. Now I know why they call Quartoth the darkest of the dark worlds. There are entire cities underground, bigger than the ones on the surface, everyone of which was as dark and corrupt as the other, all of them ruled by the enigmatic demons that call themselves the Kluthu. Here, the surface was a kind of wilderness and act only as a door to the real horrors beneath, explaining why our lives in the darkest of worlds were not dark at all: All the horrors, all the powers could be found beneath the soil. Beneath the flesh, as the warlocks would say.

I'm trying to rest now, conserving my energy. There will be plenty of time for escaping later. Besides, I think several ribs were broken in the struggle to catch us… but they are healing now. My only pain now is that I don't know what the wretches are doing to my son.

As always fortune is with me, there is moss in these caverns and there's some water coming from the stalactites. I was feasting. Hah! I don't know how long I have been here but I am praying to God that Steven is safe.

What felt like centuries passed by when I was visited by one of the Kluthu. The demon was most foul. It had the face of death and it was clothed in a red overcoat with a dark material under it that looked like leather armor. Experience fighting these creatures, however, has taught me that the material is as hard as steel and flexible as silk. The creature walked/floated towards me, a curving serpentine sword in its hands. I was so sure it was going to kill me.

I was wrong. To my surprise, we talked. And to greater surprise, in English!

"So. Come to kill me at last." I said first in their language.

"Not at all. We want Steven's cooperation." The English was without accent. "To that end." He gestured at me.

I did not betray my surprise at the English words. "Cooperation?"

"Deluded old fool! You have no idea the enormous gift you have given us in the form of the abomination!"

"My son is not an abomination!"

Laughing. "And I suppose his real parents were supposed to give birth to such a one?"

"How did you know that? Steven would never tell you. Did you torture him for that information?"

The creature laughed some more. "You have no inkling of the enormity of what you have done! But then again neither does Connor."

"His name is…" He choked me.

"We have been watching you for a long time Daniel Holtz. We care not what you were in your world. In here, you are nothing.

We knew that you would one day arrive here in our territories. We knew of what it is that accompanies you. Ahhh…. He shall beckon forth a new age. An age that shall bring us revenge and power all in one."

Suffice to say our discussion tarried off to what their plans were for my son. It seems that they have certain designs to turn him into one of them, a vile warlock. And they intended me to help them by using me as leverage. I refused so I was tortured and in front of my own son. It seems that torture was a form of art in these parts.

The experience was most painful, I assure you, I screamed and cried a lot… but all the pains of this flesh is nothing compared to the screams of my family still ringing in my ears.

They made Steven watch. And to my eternal pride, the boy's face was cold as ice. He did not flinch or cry. He would never cooperate with the demons unless I ordered otherwise. He was that strong!

First watch for Connor consisted of sitting on the couch and staring blankly at the space in front of him, thinking while tensing for any indication of a sudden attack. A lot has happened, everything was supposed to be cut and dried. Find Angel then that's that. He'll take care of the problem and you shut your mouth and stay low.

But he knew as others knew that it would never end like that. Even if he could find out what had happened to Angel. There's still the question of what might happen to him and everyone's memories. There's still the question of what he is and what he might become. There's also the question of the coming demonic army. And what about the mystical disasters that were threatening to consume his home?

Connor didn't know what to do. On one hand, he knew that he could do something about all these problems. But on the other hand, the craven coward in him didn't want to return to that past primal warrior/warlock.

"Hey Sweetie." It was the First.

Connor murmured something and got off the couch. Darla was sitting across him.

"What happened to the Angel form?"

"I kinda like this form better, less broody."

"Go away."

"Oh, Connor do you have to be like this every time we meet?"

"Demon higher being or imaginary voice in my head? Why can't you try killing me like everyone else?"

"Ohhh! Because you and I are friends. Can't run around maiming my best boys now can I? Besides I'm short of help these days. Half of them were swallowed in the Hellmouth… and then that idiot, Caleb got himself killed."

"Sorry for interrupting you but I would like to get back to the point of _get the hell out of here_!" Connor then flopped back down on the couch and muffled his ears.

"You know, Harry Potter over there is more than he's letting on and you know it! Don't turn that pretty little head of yours. A sorcerer, being chased by demons. Hmm. He claims to be serving a council of mages. Well, that much is true! But did he tell you what it is exactly those mages do?"

Connor didn't want to answer but he guessed that maybe indulging this _thing_ was the best way of getting rid of it. "No. And, more importantly, I don't care! Get the hell out of my head!" He turned back to the couch.

"That's no way to talk to your mother! Especially not when she tells you what happened to your nephew."

Connor was incredulous. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hmmm… Spike. He's your nephew if you think about it."

Connor stood up again. "I know Angel is Spike's grandsire. What about Spike?" The question was a demand.

"Oh, Spike got a soul like Angel and suddenly the world turns topsy turvy."

"Old news. Angel told me about the unique not unique thing. What's that got to do with him?" Connor motioned to the door, into the bedroom where Lawin was sleeping.

"Because, Lawin was the one who gave Spike his soul. Vampire with souls are nothing special. They can be created with a little mumbo jumbo magic. But two vampire Champions caused some very serious problems. Angel was the one who was supposed to destroy the Hellmouth." And defeat the First, but the image didn't tell him that. "He was the one who was supposed to battle as a Champion of the powers. But that destiny was hacked into two because of the interference of certain interests. All the prophecies have failed and he is one of the reasons for it." Darla gestured to the bedroom again. "Even if he doesn't know it yet." Darla/First smiled demurely and motioned to the room. "Why don't you ask him what happened to Spike? You'll find the answer very surprising."

Connor pinned Lawin against the wall, hurting his wounds. He was deeply asleep just a second ago.

"Not again." Lawin muttered.

"What do you know about Spike?"

"Who wants to know white man?" Lawin said, reverting back to macho crap.

"I don't have time for this kind of shit!"

Lawin coughed then spat blood into Connor's face. Connor smashed his nose, and then dropped him to the ground.

_Don't toy with him!_

"Shut up!" Lawin snapped.

Connor didn't understand. "Not going to, until I get answers."

"I wasn't talking to you."

"Yeah, everybody likes talking to himself."

"Why not? You do."

Connor's eyes flared.

"Before I answer your question. How'd you know about Spike?"

"Birdy told me."

Lawin glared at him.

"A higher being that calls itself the First. Says that its one of the powers that be. Your turn!"

"The First! _Hesus! Diyos! _And you believed it? Do you know what that thing is? Do you have any idea what that thing is capable of!" Lawin started to stand but Connor pushed him back down.

"Don't worry about the images in my head. I can handle them, always have all my life. What did you do to Spike?"

"The First! Oh my God. That mentalist, Malachi. We should have listened."

"Yeah, we'll get there. But before that Spike first."

Lawin's mind was whirling with problems. The war just got bigger. The Horde was invading. Traitors among the Ancients. And now, the First.

_Tell him! You must if you intend to stay healthy._

Lawin considered lying but, again, opted for the truth. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything since when you got involved with Spike and Angel. And what your people have to do with them."

"Okay, calm down. The First is definitely not one of the powers."

"You're not answering my question!" Connor was pinning Lawin back against the wall.

"Okay! Okay! Calm down! Dammit! You really wanna know?"

_He can smell you lying! Don't attempt it!_

"Yes, the people I've worked for gave Spike his soul. Yes, I'm involved with Spike turning human. But that's all there is to it. So leave it at that."

"Oh no. I'm not leaving it at that. Why, How and, more importantly, what the hell are you up to!"

Lawin threw off Connor's hands that were grabbing his shirt. "I wish I could answer you, Reilly. But the truth is I'm not even sure what I'm up to. You want to talk, I'll talk. None of it matters anymore, anyway. But I insist that we sit first and get the poles off of our asses."

The two sat down. Lawin on the edge of the bed and Connor on the nearby couch.

Lawin took out his alcohol flask and took a long drink. "They call themselves the Ancients. They're human… at least they look human. Most of them are sorcerers, others are… I don't know. From what I could tell, they're very powerful… and immortal. There aren't a lot of them and they hide in different locations around the world while getting schmucks like me to do their dirty work for them. They don't meet a lot of people, not even their own. They fight amongst themselves a lot and run around being paranoid all the time." Lawin sighed deeply. "But they weren't always like this, eons ago the Ancients were the best that humanity had to offer against the demons that originally inhabited this world, even before the Slayers came in.

"When they first emerged, the demons were already weakened and humanity stood a fighting chance. The Ancients were always at the front line of the attack. They created most of the armies and enchantments that even until now protect this world. Like the Slayers."

Connor was surprised by that last sentence. As he listened, Connor soon found out a treasure trove of knowledge from this chance encounter with this lost soul much like himself. The Ancients fought off the last of the demons. They created enchantments throughout the world to keep the demons out. They sealed off portals to hell dimensions, like Quar'toth. They created warriors, warriors like the Slayer, to serve their cause, humanity's cause. Connor also learned that the Ancients were not in the same league with the powers that be and that they made their own interpretation to what was best for humanity and this world.

The Ancients did not really like the idea of succession and so they elected amongst themselves to take on the burden of immortality to keep watch and act as custodians over the world they had saved, created and protected. The rest died.

As eons passed, the Ancients who chose immortality began to lose their humanity, turning into craven, sniveling sycophants. After a few more millennia, memory of them was forgotten and they faded into legend. Soon, human secret societies formed from the work the Ancients left behind, not knowing that it was the Ancient's will that these newer more flexible mystic groups take over the works they could no longer do. One of them was the Watcher's council.

So the Ancients became dormant, watching and waiting, interfering only when absolutely necessary, like in the case of the First and the Hellmouth, not knowing that their entire kind was slowly turning sterile. The only actions that they had been able to mount were through their own agents. Subtle manipulation and covert acts of treachery against any power bloc that might threaten their interests, whether they be good or evil.

"I was one of their agents. Well, until they decided that I needed a permanent sedation."

"You say that the Ancients fought off the demons. But what about that thing that guy, Malachi,said?" Connor asked.

"That the Ancients were just being expedient when they fought the demons? That they were just waiting for the right time to strike when their enemies were weakened? That they were trying to grab power from the demons and then take it for themselves? Before, no. But a lot of beliefs change when the people you serve try to kill you."

"People you work for taught you magic?" Connor's asked and his face seemed to grow in disgust at the mention of the M word.

"Nah. I've always been a sorcerer. Sort of runs in the family."

"And now that you're all grown up you've decided to make it out on your own."

"Something like that. Frankly, I don't like getting the third degree from anyone about my family. It's a long story and it pisses me off to talk about it."

"Fine, I got a story you might like to tell. How and why were you following me? And who gave you all the information about my…" Connor tapped his temple.

"You're an unknown. And to tell you the truth, unknowns make those guys want to wet their pants. Dammit, man, do you think the people I work for are the only ones who are watching you with anxiety? There are things out there. Big and scary and powerful things that watch you all the time; some want you dead, others want you pacified and others, god knows, want to use you."

"They can try." Connor's eyes glowed with savage glee. "You seem to know a lot, care to tell me how much you know about me?"

"Your life here. Fake memories. Birth. Parents. But nothing about that Disneyland where you spent the first seventeen years of your life. My employers don't like the idea of me knowing things I don't need to know."

Connor thought about that and knew he was powerless to do anything about it, short of killing Lawin. A lot of people were slowly getting into his real life. The life that was the memory. It was unraveling. Connor didn't want to think about it. He didn't want anyone knowing the truth. He wanted to change the subject.

"Spike. You never answered me what happened to Spike."

Lawin looked down thoughtfully. He wasn't sure if he should tell. It could certainly compromise his dealings with the Ancients.

_The Ancients want you dead. It's only fitting to return the favor. Besides, this one may have information we might use. Use to find what has transpired with the Anash. We may also be able to use him._

"Spike was… the Ancients attempt at high jacking a prophecy with regards to the apocalypse, I already told you that. Make no mistake, a lot of groups like Wolfram and Hart wanted Angel. You know, use him as their own weapon and all. And I'm not just talking about people like Jasmine. She was one of them, yeah, but a lot wanted to use him for their own ends like you. No matter how much they tried and cheated, Angel was ultimately a Champion of the powers. Wolfram and Hart learned this the hard way. So did your daughter and anyone else who made the mistake. The powers planned him, engineered the events that gave him his soul and provided for the path he would, if he so chose, follow."

"What do you mean choose?"

"You have to understand how prophecies work; they're not programs that force you into a path. Their more like… contracts. Do you think Angel and Spike are the first ensouled vampires in history? No! But there are prophecies about a destined Champion. People who become Champions not by virtue of the events surrounding them but by the choices they make, hard choices. Your father became that prophesied Champion. Why? Because Angel kinda went into the contract of being the Champion, when he decided to hang onto his soul, when he decided to save girls in alleys and do the whole LA fight evil crap. He chose. Regardless of problems and regardless of the price. Angel, like you and me now, could have just walked away. But he didn't and because he didn't, he ended up following a path that led to the destiny of the vampire Champion. He, in a way, made an unwritten agreement with the powers to serve their cause, becoming their Champion.

"Higher demons like your new best bud, the First, and my former employers as well as other thingies up there didn't like the idea. The powers always served the interests of purposeful good. Their morality and ethics didn't fit into the ancient's thinking of power or survival. Some of the higher powers tried to wrest control of your dad from the powers, like Wolfram and Hart. Others wanted him dusted. But others understood that both paths were futile: The powers that be had a great incorruptible weapon.

"The Ancients were one of those who understood this and didn't seek to take control of your father or destroy him. And so instead of trying to get a jump on the person in question they jumped the prophecy."

"Spike." Connor suddenly understood. The pieces fitted together.

"Instead of controlling the vampire Champion for their own ends like Wolfram and Hart, the Ancients created Spike. And hoped that somehow Angel would just die, thus taking away a chess piece and replacing it with their own. With the prophecy still fully intact."

"You'd better not be calling my dad or me a chess piece."

Lawin ignored him, caught in the story telling. "They needed a Champion against the First. And they didn't get the present vampire with the soul so they created one. They ordered me to give him that soul, make him their Champion. The First was one of this Champion's enemies."

Connor looked surprised.

"That's right, the creature that was talking to you was fated to be defeated by the vampire Champion in a battle. However, certain events have complicated that aspect of your dad's destiny. And frankly, I think the powers were scared shitless at the idea of exposing one of their own in a mess that the Ancients created. It was a Slayer problem not theirs. The Slayers were created by the Ancients not the powers.

So the Ancients, noble and great as those bastiches are, decided to screw the powers and highjack the prophecy. I don't know how or why that is, exactly, but I've been told that Angel's destiny became periled because Spike existed. Spike couldn't have been a better candidate. Angel was his grandsire after all. The Ancients planned to use Spike in beating the first and then leave him to rot… and if it causes problems in the universe – screw that. They didn't understand that the vampire Champion was more important than just keeping the Hellmouth closed. So they got an idiot like me to dress up as some sort of demon and then give Spike his soul. It was kinda cool when I did that really. I made with the big body and glowing green eyes, really _Mortal Kombat_ cool."

Connor glanced at Lawin with an annoyed look.

"Okay, umm, well, Spike wasn't completely gone. He was resurrected thanks to your dad's old friend, Mr. Macdonald."

"Lindsey."

"Yeah, well, The Ancients got their asses in a deep pile of you know what and so they turned to me clean up the mess again. From what I can tell, Spike being resurrected was not planned for. It caused a lot of people and a lot of other interests some very serious anxiety. And so, I was faced with a problem. How do you get a brave and powerful knight to stop being himself? Simple. Give him his holy grail."

"You made him human. Shanshu. How?"

"Does it matter?"

Connor thought for a moment. "No. But why Spike only? What about my dad? Why didn't you turn him human too?"

"Your dad was a Champion of the powers that be. Spike was the Ancient's toy. Defective and dangerous and created for a single purpose, but theirs nonetheless. The Ancients know better than to play with fire they didn't create. Besides, he signed a binding deal that he would forget about turning human ever. Not to mention your father was turned human once."

Connor looked up with surprise. Who was this guy?

"Yeah, it was with the blood of this demon assassin, causes whoever makes contact to get a heartbeat. Didn't last long though. Your daddy later found out he'd rather be a superhero. Loved the glory, probably. Spent twenty four hours weighing the ups and downs of being a normal nobody… and well, like I said, The powers were testing him if he was really the one. He passed: Grade A Champion. But no humanity. Toughski Shitski. Personally, I think he's a dumbass.

Connor cut Lawin off and glared at him hard. "You don't know anything about Angel. You don't know anything about him because like me, you're a selfish jackass who thinks he can strut his way through life. Angel did the things he did because that was the kinda guy he was. If he made different choices he wouldn't be who he is. He'd be some guy walking in Malibu, who was only recently a demon. Living a lie and a false pretense. But no, he is who he is because he chose it; because he believed in what he was doing, in the things he knows to be true. He started with no rewards or interests or ulterior motives or happy endings. He is, because that is his choice. No crap about purpose or meaningful ending. None! So before you start crapping about my dad. Think about what might happen to your fucking mouth!"

Lawin only raised a contemptuous brow. He wondered if Connor's little rant was for himself or for Connor's. He dismissed it for later consideration, and continued his story about Spike as if nothing happened, but with more reserve. He was wary about the tenuous creature before him. Surely he could escape, even fight. But he was still hurt and he could do little at the moment. He told Connor about the Ancients, about what they do, their history. He told him how and when he turned Spike human and that he was living somewhere in Texas at the moment.

Connor asked about Angel and the others, Illyria and Gunn, what happened to them. But Lawin only professed that he had rescued only Spike when the team split up in the alley to divide the attention of the rampaging army. Connor, through careful interrogation found out that Lawin wasn't lying. He knew only about Spike and Spike alone. And from what Lawin could tell Spike didn't know what happened to the others as well.

When Connor was satisfied with his answers he pressed further about Lawin himself since the other guy seemed to know enough about Connor's real and fabricated life.

As a measure of good faith, Lawin obliged to tell him his family history, the Scion and the treachery of Amazarak, an Ancient. He also told him about his own powers. That it was designed like the Slayer line though unstable. And like the Slayer line it could be passed down from generation to generation with the exception of being exclusively male and that those males usually have their skulls blown if the Scion was not controlled; and how a twin is always born with the one who shall inherit the Scion. The twin shall serve as a living mystical stabilizer. If the Scion dies, the twin is released from being the stabilizer and the power is passed to the next in line of the family. If however, the twin dies, the Scion bearer must lessen the use of the Scion or risk his death from his own powers. If no twins exist when the Scion dies, then it is passed at random to those who have Amazarak' blood, but the inheritor also suffers the risk of being destroyed by the Scion.

Which was why Lawin's family always had twins in reserve, so that the succession would be stable and the Scion would be safe for its bearer. Lawin was the latest bearer. His twin was back at home, in the old country. He smiled at the thought, men used to think that twins were the products of magic. And sometimes, he mused, it was true.

Lawin later told Connor that he was a mage assassin, specializing in hunting down renegade sorcerers just as they, Lawin and his family, were hunted by the Ancients. The family that bore the Scion bloodline was extremely clannish. He was an adept at using his powers and from the looks of him, could also fight. He also told him about how he had betrayed his family by refusing to kill a girl trying to get a scoop into something she wasn't supposed to know. She was innocent, he reasoned. And because he refused, he was cast out, hated, even in danger of being killed. And so he ran all the way there, away from his own family to find a cure to a curse that others blindly saw as power.

"Wow," Connor said.

"Yeah, but you grew up in hell. I got nothing against that."

"Oh, right but I never started killing people when I was thirteen."

"They were dark magicians!" Lawin hissed, referring to his family's sacred occupation. "And don't forget, you killed your share of humans."

Connor glared malevolently. "I'd watch it if I were you."

Lawin mellowed. "I was thirteen. They told me to be a killer. I didn't know what to do. I didn't have any choice. What about you? How were you any different? How old were you?"

"Four."

"Four. Killer at four."

"They were demons."

"And mine were warlocks." Lawin suddenly remembered Connor was a warlock and a demon. "No offense."

"None taken."

"But frankly speaking, we were born into a world that is dark and powerful and dangerous and could get a lot of things ripped apart. I accepted that a long time ago which is why I can make the necessary choices. That's why I saved my girl and you kille…" Connor rammed Lawin against the wall again.

"I warned you!" Connor hissed.

"What are you afraid of Reilly? Are you scared of looking at yourself at the mirror? Are you scared that you won't see Connor Reilly? Or are you scared of accepting the truth that you are and always will be forced to choose." Connor let go and walked away as if in a trance. The words hit the mark.

Lawin rubbed his neck and pressed on. "The girl in the warehouse. Jasmine. Cordelia Chase. You had a choice with all of them."

"And I failed every last one!"

"I used to tell myself that too. I lost someone just recently. Another one on my tab! I used to tell myself that I'll always be a failure and I should just walk away before I get anyone else I love killed. Yeah, you can. But if you do, you're also making a choice! And that choice will not make things any better! They might even get more of your love ones killed. Don't kid yourself. You know and I know that dwelling in denial is as dangerous as fighting the darkness. The demons and the dangers will always be there, threatening to kill everyone around you whether you bury your head in the sand or not. Take Holtz, for example! You knew he was lying to you but you still chose to believe him! That got you into a lot of trouble!"

"You know nothing about Holtz." But Lawin did, thanks to the Ancients and his relentless research.

"White man, guys like us wish we were never born! But to tell you the truth, we can't really choose the circumstances we are in; we can only choose to be the kind people we want to be responding to those circumstances... Which is probably the only real choice we have."

Connor ignored Lawin and went back to the couch. To Connor, everything that Lawin said was a sack of shit. He didn't understand this world as well as he should. He didn't understand that you can make things right if you pushed hard enough. He may be sorcerer but he hadn't lived through hell. Let the bastard talk all he wanted

They refused to speak for a while, the silence tensed as each person tried to garner something to throw. And then… Connor breached the wall.

"Listen, you bastard, I've done all I can. Stay away from me and stay away from my family. I got nothing to prove to you or the whole fucking universe! I have no grand design. I'm not special. I'm just Connor Reilly, college student at Stanford. So you can tell the Ancients or whatever they are to get away from me!"

Lawin looked Connor over for a moment then walked out of his room and hobbled to the coffee table with a pen and paper. He wrote on the paper, folded it and gestured for Connor to take it.

"What's that?" Connor asked.

"Spike's address. It ain't much but maybe he can tell you what happened to Angel."

Connor seemed tempted to take it. Maybe Lawin was lying. Maybe Spike knew something of what happened to his father. Maybe he could find a new lead. But Connor promised he would just walk away. But finding his father wasn't walking away, was it? No, but it meant going back into that world of darkness and demons. _That's the place you promised yourself to walk away from._ What to do?

"One time deal," Lawin said. "Captain Peroxide is jumping ship in a few days. Got a message from him an hour after my apartment got turned into ash and dust. You say you really want to walk away. You really choose to look the other direction. Prove it! Show me some conviction."

If Connor took the paper it would mean going back in, going back to the darkness but if he rejected it then that would mean rejecting to himself that he wanted to find Angel again.

Connor walked away from Lawin. And opened the door to motel room to leave. "The little bastards that have been chasing us are gone. Don't try to find me or observe me again. If you do you'll wish you had not. Check out's at eight." Connor threw Lawin the key to the room.


	12. Chapter 12: A Little Too Close to Home

Chapter 12: A Little Too Close to Home

Chapter 12: A Little Too Close to Home

Stanford

Over the next few days Connor convinced himself not to go after Lawin unless the other guy goes after him first. The entity calling itself the first had stopped harassing him. And for the first time somehow, Connor no longer felt he needed to find Angel.

He was meeting possible girlfriends in the weekend parties and everything was going well. The TV still showed disasters and plagues but he felt that deep down, it was no longer his problem and that they were just coincidences. He was finally at peace.

Everything was fine until he got a call from his sister.

"It's dad." She cried on the phone.

A bench in Griffith park.

Malachi was not happy. For the last few days he's been cleaning up the mess of demonic incursions known as the Horde. The Slayers were disappearing and the watcher's council are doing all the wrong things. The Ancients have gone silent. His people have abandoned him. The visions were getting murky. And to top it all off, his prospective conscripts, the Scion and the Destroyer, had given him the finger and went back to their respective agendas. No matter, Malachi thought amused they'll come back. They're my team. They just don't know it yet.

Malachi was very annoyed that they were pursuing their own interests. The two will eventually find themselves walking the same path with him, fighting the Horde and the other demonic factions but it seems, for now, that they keep insisting on their own ideas. Ah to be young, Malachi thought with nostalgia.

Though his face was clearly that of a young adult - passable as a teen even - Malachi was in fact around eight centuries old. He was recruited by the powers when the kingdom of Jerusalem was falling to the Saracens, in a place called Hattin.

As a Templar of eighteen, Malachi's skull was shattered by a large Saracean scimitar. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in a cavern, his wounds completely healed, a large creature standing right over him. He had forgotten everything specific about who he was, his feelings, his loves, his family, even his name. He had been retrieved by a demon and revived into some kind of non human shell with powers of limited omniscience. He was told by his new benefactor that he was chosen to serve with the help of visions and, through it, the powers that be.

From that moment on, Malachi saw a bigger picture: Heaven and Hell - Good and Evil. He saw a pattern that shaped the very foundations of this world and the one preceded it and the ones that may or may not follow. He saw them all. He saw the path of the world as a single vision. But the vision was alive and Malachi wanted to serve that vision for it promised survival.

In exchange for his service, Malachi was given powers of a mentalist, knowledge he would never dream possible. He was even shown that those who served with him had created a powerful spell throughout the world to keep humanity from accepting the existence of demons and higher beings, a spell that would keep man sterile and bland from the enormous mass of its own ignorance. The vision was subservient to the will of the powers that be. The vision does not make commands but rather it shows what might be, what are the chances and most importantly what are the best chances for survival, the agent acted based on his own judgment. Free will was ominously present in the job description.

And for the hundredth time since he had chosen to defy the odds the vision was showing him, Malachi wondered what on earth everybody would people do if that worldwide enchantment were not there.

Complete chaos, he thought, answering himself. Everybody would know about the demons. Humans are too stupid to be left to their own devices.

Malachi was knocked out of his thoughts as he suddenly felt a strong amount of mystical energy. He turned around and…

"Why Hello there," Malachi greeted, "So you decided that the Ancients weren't going nowhere?"

Lawin smirked back malevolently. "Before we begin. I just want to know something. Besides the descriptive knowledge about the Ancients and what it is they do… What do you _really _know about the Ancients?"

Malachi smiled. "The Ancients serve their own purpose while I and my associates answer to the powers that be."

"That's no answer."

_This creature is not human! _Lawin ignored the Scion.

Malachi tilted his head back arrogantly. "Okay. How about something like this? My people don't give a rat's ass if your people end up killing each other as long as they stay out of our business we're happy."

_We should leave. There's no telling what this thing is capable of._

"Better but Define 'business.'"

Malachi only smiled. "Oh Lawin. You're smarter than that."

Lawin poked further. "I see and what about if, say, our businesses overlap with each other like with certain vampires with souls?"

"Spike and Angel? Oh come, come, The powers have known a long time ago that it was you who gave Spike his precious wittle soul. Let's not play games, Lawin. Your employers, or should I say former employers, are, were too inept to interfere with the plans of the guys up stairs. The Ancients don't even have what it takes to even make _the powers _fart. I mean, they actually thought that they could supplant one of their tools with their own."

"I'm sure the thought has passed the powers' minds."

"What do you want?" Malachi was suddenly dour.

"You know something. I'm stumped. You offer help. I offer mine - now. A demon army is coming. I want it stopped as much as you do. You screw with me…"

Malachi raised a hand to dismiss the last remark and invited Lawin to talk somewhere with less eyes.

The place was actually a small but ornate townhouse just out of city limits. It had a Victorian milieu, much too opulent and stuffy for an eighteen year old. But then again, Malachi only looked like an eighteen year old.

"Apparently, I've been working for the wrong people. All I got from the Ancients was a seedy apartment." The rich surroundings had surprised Lawin. Sure it was small, but the entire place looked like something only a rich guy could afford.

"I thought the Ancients gave you a daily allowance in the form of A and U."

Lawin looked at Malachi with surprised eyes.

"Oh don't give me that look, we've known about that tiny little thing for a long while. Clumsy how your people… sorry, former people handle their financial transactions like that. Alchemy is such a tiring enterprise."

Lawin unconsciously took a fighting stance.

Malachi sat on a nearby couch, he grinned at his visitor. "We'll always be two steps ahead of you."

Lawin decided to relax and put up an air of arrogance.

"A little knowledge can kill," Lawin spoke in a dry tone.

Malachi laughed and he seemed older than his face allowed. "Yes! That is true! My God, you're a fast bastard!"

Lawin just stood stoically. "You asked for my help and it seems to me you know everything already. So the question I want to raise right now is: Why do you need my help?"

Malachi rested his chin on his right hand, studying Lawin carefully. The poor Scion had been betrayed every step of the way, as he would inevitably would have been. But thankfully, he had escaped with much of his skin. Now, he walks here seeking answers, still plotting, still fighting. A warrior like his forebears, unstable and treacherous, yes, but still a warrior.

"Because," Malachi began, "I believe we can stop whatever's coming. The three of us. You, me and Angel's son."

Lawin laughed. "The three of us? Lord of the Rings. Sacred quest to save the world? Stop the apocalypse? Fight off an entire demonic army? Save the princess from the tower? I know what the Horde is. I know what they can do! And what they are already doing! So you really believe that you, a Hannibal lecter wannabe, a psychotic warlock, who by the way has fake memories, and me, a deadbeat who talks to himself, could beat all these things!"

Lawin turned to leave. It was all horse shit! He'd wasted his time going here. He needed to know what had happened to Anash while staying one step ahead of the assassins that Rukash has most likely sent to kill him. The powers that be can shove their cryptic visions up their…

"What?" Lawin suddenly stopped at something Malachi said.

"When you were thirteen, you were forced to use your powers to defend yourself against a demon that was sent to kill you." Malachi repeated. "You didn't mean to, but you killed it. And afterward, your uncle, the Scion, congratulated you even though you were scared of being a killer."

Before Malachi could say another word, he and his chair became surrounded by glowing green fire. But Malachi ignored the threat as if the person in front of him was an idiot. "Cute. But let's cut the crap! You are stumped, boy! You know and I know that the Ancients are a lost cause. You know it already and you'd have dropped them a long time ago if you had another lead in finding a cure for your..." Malachi tapped his temple. "Now, at the moment, I can help you, they can't. Otherwise you wouldn't have come here." He paused for effect. "The powers that be are concerned about fighting the Horde. The Ancients aren't. Even as we speak, the Slayers are losing the battle, their Slayers. They are losing because the ones who created them are too busy shitting their pants." Malachi slicked a thumb upward, indicating some unseen being. "Your own friend Rukash is conspiring with the demons to save his own hide and those who've tongued his hole. Your people have betrayed you. They have tried to kill you. Your beloved confidant is gone. And to top it all off, you are hunted! You want to help? Then help me find a way to stop the Horde. Help the powers." It was all lies, but Malachi had no compunctions about saying the fib. He had his own agendas and it more important than Lawin's

Damn him! He's right! _I sense great power in him. Even if he is lying, we have no leads. This one, is better than nothing! No!_ Lawin snapped at the voice inside his head. _Don't be arrogant boy!_ Lawin wanted to kill something. He hated being impotent like this. Don't be facetious, you came here for a purpose. Don't turn your back on possible futures until you are sure that it has nothing to offer.

Lawin knew what had to be done but he just had one last doubt on his mind. "The Ancients promised to cure the Scion."

"That won't matter if the Horde succeeds. You know that."

Lawin nodded his head and sat down on a couch opposite Malachi, the burst of green flames gone.

"Before anything else, I want to ask two questions."

"Shoot." Malachi smiled.

"Do you really have a cure for the Scion?"

"No. But there isn't one is there?"

"No, there isn't."

"Well, I'm sure the powers can arrange something, given enough time," Malachi said.

Lawin nodded his head but believed nothing.

"Second?"

"Do you know where Anash is?"

"She's still alive but hiding. Neither I nor my companions know where. That seems troubling… but she's not a priority right now."

Lawin sensed he was told the truth. He sighed deeply at the reprieve. A few moments and Malachi continued the conversation.

"Anything else?"

"Connor is being contacted by the first."

"I know."

"And you're not worried because…"

"Because Reilly is not the type to listen to the voices in his head, because the first is no longer that great a threat, because the powers aren't going to let anything like that to happen. And whatever attempts are happening now they will not succeed." Malachi was bluffing, of course. The powers have ditched this dimension, to let the demons kill each other. No point in fighting two enemies if you can just get both of them to kill each other.

"How do you know any of this?"

Malachi winked, made an _it's a secret_ sign with a finger to the mouth and said, "I know people up there, _**Way**_ up there." He laughed slightly and said. "Anything else you'd like to add?"

Lawin shook his head.

"Good, then follow me to my office. I need you to talk to Mister Reilly before we can officially start."

Lawin hesitated for a moment, but then followed.

Eighteenth Entry

The warlock that had tortured me left scowling. Steven followed him with two guards flanking my son on both sides. Having large amounts of demon energy pass through your veins can allow you time to think and reflect about your options. Though bad as it may seem, warlock training, I reflected, might later actually be beneficial to Steven's future, to his survival. Plus, there was also the prospect at the tortures being halted; that would be pleasant.

After days of endless screaming and agonizing pain, I was finally allowed to talk to Steven. It seems the Kluthu think it good torture to make a broken man talk to a love one. Demons! Hah!

Anyway, I told him what I had decided, the benefits and the future investment in sorcery is necessary for us, foul as it may be. The boy was unsure about my directions, it seems that he feels aversive to the idea of magick, having been raised in God's ways. But I assured him of the _mitigating_ circumstances. But even so, he refused to listen, convinced that I was brainwashed.

I told him I wasn't and used my best arguments.

"Portals!" He cried. He was surprised.

I told him that the curs might know magicks that could get us back home. Steven did not know how to feel about this. But I assured him of my conviction in this. We argued several more times until we had exhausted all our reserves.

Steven walked back with his captors. He was angry with me for making him study the demon's flame but I knew he would obey me in the end. He was wise as well as loyal if a little arrogant.

Home. That is all that matters… that and vengeance… Angelus!

Laurence Reilly was diagnosed as among the rare cases of an unproclaimed epidemic. He was isolated in a unit with only three or four other patients, two of them young teenage girls. At the moment, a cure was still illusive but people were trying to get there.

There were similar cases reported from all over the world but it seems that they have been very few, which was a good thing. The bad thing was that no one could seem to pinpoint the real source of the epidemic or how it spreads and how it chooses its victims - oddly, most of them were young girls.

Kit walked to her brother, who was quietly brooding in the reception area of the hospital. He seemed older to her somehow, no longer a boy. There was depth to his eyes that she could not really fathom, something there that wasn't there before.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Connor responded not looking up.

"You should get some sleep. You look tired."

"Not tired," he muttered.

"Is that some kind of demonic lingo for 'yeah I am tired but I don't want to talk about it?' tired." Connor looked at his sister with an annoyed look. "Sorry. Get to the point look. Okay, here it goes. I can't remember what you showed me but it's like it doesn't really matter. I think I understand now what you showed me in that warehouse. I know what you did and why you did it. All the horrors and torments. It seems like they're just a vague a memory now. I can't even remember any details about the things I saw when I… you know..." She stopped and stared at her brother for some kind of response.

"I'm sorry Kit," Connor said sadly, "I'm so sorry I brought this on all of us. I wish there was another way, but I'm not smart enough or strong enough to know what they are."

Kit touched her brother's hand. "Don't be sorry, Connie. I understand now. I know why you're blocking my memories. I know how those things in Qourtoth get you. I know that you're just trying to protect us but I still can't believe that any of this is real. Did you do this to Mom and Dad too?"

Connor's eyes were out of focus when he answered. "Yes."

Kit felt a surge of rage and she suddenly wanted to slap her brother hard for his lies that weren't really lies. Something kept her down and she was left glaring at her brother. Connor looked at an angry face and saw only love there.

"They're coming," Connor said sadly and he began to confess his darkest fears, "I don't know if this is real or some kind of paranoia – I could be wrong - but if they are coming here, I cannot stand idly by and let the Kluthu hurt you or mom or dad. You know how they get you, right? I showed it to you in that vision."

Kit nodded her head solemnly.

"They get you from within, from your own mind and soul. That's why I had to block away your memories."

"And afterwards? Will you still _block our memories_?" Kit accused but she was sorry for it.

Connor didn't answer her. He just closed his eyes and slumped on his chair. "That's why I wanted to find Angel. I can't go through with this again. I can't go back to who I was." Connor covered his face with palms and tried to block away

"I…" Kit Reilly began to cry. "Lies," she muttered.

Connor took hold of his sister and did his best to comfort her. "You weren't supposed to know the things I've had to deal with Kit. What I'm doing now is to protect you."

"I know," Kit nodded. Connor showed her the demons that were coming, showed her how they could destroy everything that she cared about. All of this was galling to her.

"You didn't deserve that life. No one deserves to have that kind of life!"

"But it's still my life, Kitty. And it's mine no matter what happens. In a way I'm even thankful for it. I mean it gave me you and mom and dad, right?"

Kit wiped away a tear. "Yeah, it did. It did. I want you to know I love you Connor. You're my brother. Those things I've said before I didn't mean them, okay? I don't care what these memories from the law firm say. You are my brother even if you're a lying jerk! Even if I don't like how you're fighting them, you're my brother. No memory can change that! That's real."

For Connor those were the most wonderful words his sister had or would ever say to him. He felt a pang of embarrassment at his own fears. His parents, his sister, they loved him in reality. It was not circumstances. It was no lie or false memory. It was the truth, transcending even his beliefs that everything, including love and happiness was dependant on the right place, time, experience and circumstances. And if that single fact could transcend all the lies and plots and deceits within deceits then there was such a thing as goodness in this world.

"Thank you, Kit. That makes all the pain worth it." Connor saw that she didn't understand the true depth of his happiness so he just hugged his sister tighter. When he let go of the hug he said, "For a moment I thought it would have been best if I had just left you and mom and dad. I figured that it might have been best. I mean once you know the truth…"

"We'll no longer love you?" Kit playfully punched her brother.

Actually, it's so that I wouldn't put anybody I love in danger, Connor had wanted to say.

"Yeah, well, you thought of that because you're a dumbass, dumbass. And if you ever leave without telling we'll never forgive you and then I'll trash your room." Kit stopped chuckling and turned morosely towards her brother. "Do you… Do you think dad'll be okay?"

"Of course he'll be okay. Why wouldn't he be?"

"Don't lie to me Connor. This thing that's hurting dad, now… This plague, it has something to do with the things that you… deal with those _things_. I want you to tell me if dad's going to be okay or not. Because I know you're hiding something."

Connor tipped his head back and sighed. "It's a mystical disease. It will adapt to any form of treatment. I don't… I don't know… if dad'll be okay. I can't tell anything else… It's… I'm sorry."

"Oh God," Kit cried.

"These things happen all the time with people ignoring it to keep themselves comfortable. You have to believe that I didn't do this to dad, Kit."

Kit looked at her brother. Suddenly, she understood what has been bothering him. He was blaming himself for all the bad things that had been happening. "Of course I don't, dummy. Do you think that you did?"

Connor thought about that. No, but then again he doesn't have to be the one making the mystical disease, he just has to be the _cause_ of it. _Jasmine! The Beast! Holtz! _They happened because of me! Did they? I don't know. Like before, He was blaming himself.

"Don't blame yourself."

"Why not. Maybe… Maybe, if I'd just left. Dad… would…"

"No! This isn't your fault, you hear me? You didn't cause this, you're fighting it. Why do you have to keep insisting that everything wrong is your fault? It's not!"

Connor smiled at his sister. She was so goddam strong. "Everything's going to be alright, Kit. I'll deal with it, okay." He said it without betraying his lack of conviction.

Kit didn't say anything and she just lay down on her brother's lap to sleep quietly, pretending for once that things were going to be okay.

_Being told that you are a good person even when you know you're not, that's kinda like being turned into something else. By virtue of what you're given you're being told that you're worth it… even when know you're not. And because of that you turn yourself into something else… Something you could never be in a thousand years, something that can conform to the gift. And in that act of turning you begin to destroy yourself. _

_But sometimes ,it's worth it…_

Reilly residence.

"Hey Mom." Connor entered Colleen's bedroom. After several nights of constant vigil at the emergency ward, the doctors had to send Colleen home for her to get some rest. But she couldn't rest. She was crying but she easily concealed it.

"Hey sweetie. How's Stanford?"

"Great," Connor said morosely.

"Any new girlfriends?"

"Don't want to talk about it, mom."

"How's Tracey? I know you two still keep in touch."

"She's fine. Got a new a boyfriend in San Francisco."

"Oh that's terrible. She…"

"No, it's fine. I mean when we said we needed to see other people, we kinda always knew this is where it would lead to." He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. "Besides, with Tracey making it official I guess we could move forward with our lives now." He suddenly saw something in his mother's eyes. "Hey, mom. Don't worry about me. Campus life's great. I mean things are… are great."

"That's good." Colleen managed smile, not sure how to respond. "That's good but shouldn't you be going back to Stanford?"

"Stanford can wait. I'll stay here until dad's all better, okay."

"The doctor says he's stable, now. Thank God." Connor knew she was lying, he knew how the disease worked. His warlock training made him recall the stages of the infection. He wasn't liking the memories.

"Mom?"

"Oh, by the way. He's in quarantine along with some three other girls. Teenagers." Colleen kept her sorrow down and then managed a smile. "Which is making me very uncomfortable."

Connor managed a shy grin. Somehow, his mother always had a sense of humor. "I'm sure dad wouldn't try anything. I mean jailbait, right?"

"Oh you don't know your father. One time when he was having the flu… Well… Let's just say Kit got born nine months later."

"Mom! This isn't funny, for God's sake."

Colleen looked at her son with a knowing expression. "I think it's sad that you've lost your sense of humor. You used to have smart mouth and, God help me, but I think I'm beginning to miss it. It's funny, you know, for a mother, to have the shock of seeing his son as a man."

"Don't feel like it. I just feel like I'm living some kind of crappy lie."

"Well, don't. You're handling yourself pretty well these days." She looked at her son and managed another faint smile beneath the tears. He seemed older now, though not really. It was the eyes, she thought, somehow the eyes were different, deeper and holding experiences which she knew but could not really comprehend… or recall, like they were a dream. So she misunderstood. "I understand you know. I know what you're feeling. And you have to understand that none of this is your fault."

Connor looked at her with determined eyes. He could only remain quiet. _But it was_, he wanted to shout. It wasn't coincidence that this plague has targeted his father. If she remembered the details of the things he showed her, if she knew the tragedy that he has brought to her family, if she knew the darkness that would make her glimpse the truth, then she'd know that he was to blame.

"It is," he said faintly.

"It's not Connor. You must understand that. You're father and I love you very much. And so does Kit." Connor managed a smile. When he showed his parents the memories of Quartoth a year ago, when they had inadvertently saw him stake a vampire, they couldn't believe it. They remained quiet about it. They whispered to each other their fears about him. Connor was ready to just pack and leave when they confronted him and told him how much they loved him. False memory or not. Love was more than just memories, they told him. If he felt that love and if they felt it then it is more real than whatever reality told them, more real than what the mechanical and intellectual mind says. A few months passed and, true to the spell he used, the truth about Connor became a blur, the only thing remaining in Colleen and Laurence's mind was that their son was special and they loved him nonetheless.

Connor smiled at the memory. It was one of the most sublime moments of his life. He suddenly felt that nothing not even hell could destroy such love. But right now he wasn't sure about that. He thought that everything would be okay if he just ignored it, all of it. But it wasn't okay. He suddenly realized that no matter what happens who he is will run after him and in the end it will take away everything he ever cared about. His father was sick because of him. Cordelia was dead because of him. Holtz was dead because of him. Angel was gone because of him. Wesley, Winifred, Gunn, he was indirectly responsible for all their deaths. The name struck. Destroyer. Everything he touched was destroyed.

Connor looked down on his mother's sleeping figure. She had cried herself to sleep. She looked peaceful, even happy. He kissed her forehead and walked off. He knew then and there that he could hide from the past no more. He had lost so much for someone so young. If that meant that he would ignore his true nature just so he could live a life that is fine but he will never let anything destroy his family. He would stop this… even it meant losing the life Angel had given him. _I will not lose anyone anymore!_

Lawin sneaked cautiously through the wreckage of what was only recently, one of the ancient's strongholds. After a few short steps among the broken bodies of demonic guardians, Lawin found the person he was looking for.

"Hello Boluz," Lawin said with a feral glint in his eye.

"Lawin! You… did this?"

"Yes."

"How did you find this place?"

"A birdy told me. But that wasn't the only thing I was told." He grabbed a severed demon's head from his backpack and threw it to Boluz's feet. "One of your assassins sent to kill me."

"Urkonn deserves to be tortured for failing to kill you!"

Lawin slammed Boluz against a partially burned wall. His hand then burst in to fire and carefully put it close to Boluz's face. "I'm going to ask a question, Boluz. And when you answer I want to hear the truth!" Boluz struggled but, again, got his back slammed to the wall. "Is Rukash dealing with the Horde?"

Boluz turned his face away.

"Is he!"

Boluz growled but Lawin struck him with the burning hand.

"Yes," Boluz croaked.

Lawin's face turned crimson and let Boluz sag to the floor. "And they called Amazarak the traitor!" Lawin said smugly.

"Pah! You young little fool! You run around talking about ethics when you don't even know what is happening!"

Lawin looked around to where Boluz was sprawled. "And I suppose you do?"

Boluz closed his eyes in bitterness. The answer was no.

Suddenly, something dawned on Lawin. "He cut you guys off, didn't he? He screwed you too?" Lawin smiled sardonically.

"He… he does not think that our continued involvement is prudent. What he does is necessary, you must understand that."

"That's good. Then perhaps you can enlighten me." Then Lawin began to scream in frustration. "How, in the name of Satan's unholy ass, is making a deal with a demonic army to march into this world necessary!" Out of sheer frustration Lawin unleashed a vicious punch to the wall right next to Boluz's head. "How?"

"You don't understand…"

"Don't understand? Why? Because I'm Zarakite? Because my ancestor was a treacherous murderer? Or is it because I won't see things your way! A coward's way!"

"Because you expect everything to be either purely good or evil! Right and wrong! Face it! You're a moralist, probably the first in your bloodline! Understand something: Survival is not about good or evil! It's about killing. Killing before you are killed. Amazarak understood that. So do we. So do the powers. And even your family. Moralists die. Martyrs die. Survival must be beyond good and evil! Humanity wouldn't be here right now if we don't have blood on our hands."

"And the innocent?"

"What innocent!" Boluz turned his face away. "I've been alive for thousands of years, child. Humanity is still as stupid and dangerous as ever just as it was then… and so will it be when you are gone. The only reason we fight for this cursed world because we ourselves were once human!"

Human! Lawin shook his head in dismay. Boluz was far from human; all the Ancients had lost their humanity a long time ago. "What you're trying to do…"

"Is the only known path we have for survival… Just as it had been eons ago."

"How? By letting this world get overrun by demons!"

"But humanity will continue! That is all that matters. The demons were here before. What does it matter that they return? There are two demon armies fighting. One desires to destroy everything. The other does not. Rukash does not want to fight a losing war and if that means siding with one demon faction then so be it. So as long as humanity continues, everything is well. Rukash understands this! So do the other Ancients. And all who faithfully serve the cause of humanity."

"And I suppose Anash did not?" Lawin's eyes burned with hatred as he remembered what had befallen Anash.

"I don't know what happened to Anash but if Rukash killed her that bitch probably deserved it. I will not tell you this again Lawin. You already know that a war is coming. There is nothing in our power to stop this. We cannot fight as heroes or as moral creatures in the coming battles. You want heroes? Look at the lives of the Slayers! They fight like Champions and they only end up dead! The best we can do is to look to our own survival! Survival! If the Kluthu win…"

Boluz smiled and then continued. "If the Kluthu wins they will turn this entire world into burning wasteland, complete annihilation… Humanity will end."

"And the Horde will not do the same?" Lawin flared.

"They only want the deeper well. They want their leaders back. To rally and regroup. They've been here before and yet humanity lived to tell the tale. The well! _We_ never created the deeper well, the powers did that… let them worry about the demons buried there, they are the power's problem. The Horde, they promised that if we agree to help them against their enemies they would take their leaders and fight somewhere else…"

"And you actually believe that?" Lawin couldn't help but laugh. "I should kill you for what you're trying to do Boluz… and your stupidity. But I don't think you're worth it. Do you really believe that the Horde will just pack up and leave once they get what they want? Do you really believe they won't try to reduce this world into a smoking pit! You know what they are! What you are trying to do is not just suicide! It's insanely stupid!"

"If they won't honor their bargain then we'll expel them again. We did it once, we can do it again." Boluz got a kick in the ribs for his words but he just laughed defiantly.

Boluz spat blood on Lawin's feet. "You little shit! You already know the nature of the problem. You already know the answers. Why did you come here? To blame? To confirm? Or perhaps you know that deep down, you would do the same if you were in our shoes…" Kick.

"I'm not like you Boluz. I'm not like Rukash. And I'm not Amazarak. You may think you have the answer but that isn't true. You're selling us down the river simply because you bastiches lost your damn nerves!" He then turned from Boluz and started pacing back and forth.

"Nerve? Pah! Look at you now! You don't even know which side you're serving. Your little liaison with that freak of nature is proof enough of your own stupid insanity!" Lawin seemed like he was having a trance. Boluz understood the glazed look in the young man's eyes. "What is the Scion telling you? Is it telling you that you're following Amazarak' path?"

"Shut up!"

"Is it telling you of how you'll damn everyone around you?"

"I said shut up!"

Boluz laughed but Lawin could only hear the whispers of the Scion.

_He does not know! _

_How can you be sure? _Lawin responded with his thoughts. _He must know what happened to Anash. _

_Rukash may be the only one who knows. You know that he has never trusted anyone. Not even his own confederates! This search is a dead end. Get back to Malachi and find out more about what he knows. _

Lawin considered this and he knew that the voice was right. He had come here to confirm his fears and nightmares and he has done it, Boluz does not know what happened to Anash and that was it, there was no reason to remain. When he and Malachi exchanged information, the facts led to one eventuality. Lawin hated what he had seen. It made him sick just thinking about it.

"Please say it isn't true?"

"What isn't true?" Boluz turned his head like it was made of lead.

"That you're going to help the Horde get their leaders back? Back from the deeper well? You, Rukash, Urkonn and all the bastiches are going to help them free the hell gods from the powers that be!"

The ancient laughed and then asked. "We do what is best for humanity."

There was no need for a direct answer. Lawin read his facial response. There was only wild fanatical conviction.

"How'd you where to find me?" Boluz asked.

"You already know."

"One of their agents, huh? Who was it? Whistler? Malachi? The powers will betray you, boy. They serve only their cause. Good against evil and no ambiguity in between. Humanity is just cattle to them."

"Oh, and I suppose you're more moral!" Lawin's voice was violent but it still carried a hint of amusement. "I'm here to tell you one thing Boluz and I want you to pass it along to Rukash, if he talks to you again. I know where your spies are. I know where your pet demons are hiding to jump me. Most of them are dead now and those who are left should be licking their wounds right now." Lawin crouched to face Boluz straight in the eye. "I hope you understand that I don't take kindly to being watched! So for their own sakes, tell them to stay the hell away from me!"

Boluz was going to say something snide but he soon found himself knocked out and unconscious.

_We should never have come here. _

"I had to know." Lawin was breathing hard. "I had to see the truth for myself." Lawin motioned to what appeared to be a pentagram hidden cleverly inside Boluz's quarters. It was similar to the ones he had found when he and Connor were investigating the Horde. From what he could decipher of the symbols and glyphs, Lawin found out that it was designed to act as a targeting spell for those who possessed the Slayer line. Lawin's face turned into a grimace, this proved that the Ancients were in cahoots with Horde… and they were turning everyone in the Slayer line into demons… or more accurately unleashing the demon within their powers, which explains why this Kluthu plague is targeting Slayers – it's trying to deprive of the Horde of one weapon.

When Malachi told him that the Ancients were conspiring with the Horde against the Kluthu. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that the Ancients, the very mages that secured this world for the human race was now selling humanity over to the very same demons that they have beaten eons ago. It was pure evil to think about it. Lawin knew that he had to know. He had to see the truth for himself and from what he saw in Boluz's fanatical eyes and the glyphs inside his quarters Lawin was convinced of the madness of the Ancients. It didn't matter what morality or survivalist crap you use - treachery was treachery.

Suddenly, he remembered how Amazarak stole the Scion from the Ancients, a weapon intended for another female warrior. Somehow, the disastrous events that were now enfolding was shedding new light to Lawin's treacherous ancestor. He now had a little inkling of what the moral decadence could do to this world and just how far self interest could go.

His mind staggered at the brutal truths as he walked out of the half crumbling building, suddenly feeling old and tired. Urkonn would arrive soon once his spies (now mostly dead because of Lawin and Malachi's information) could not report. The Ancients would know that he knew, and he would be hated and hunted more for that.

_How does the truth feel?_

"Shut up…" was all Lawin could say.

_No survivor is innocent Lawin. Boluz was right. Martyrs die. Weaklings die. Only those who are willing to be ruthless survive. Hyall was a martyr. The vanquished are weaklings. The Ancients understand this. How about you? _

"Please… Just shut up!" And Lawin wandered off amidst the destruction he had caused to Boluz's sanctuary, a destroyer and killer like his ancestor.


	13. Chapter 13: In Nomine Patri

**Chapter 13: In Nomine Patri**

Nineteenth Entry

I think it's been almost a year now. Steven visited me a dozen times, always with eyes watching him, making sure there was no plotting between us. The demons need me as leverage and they know it, but then again, that does not matter to me really. We will escape one day and that is certain, the demons can do nothing about that.

But for now I am pleased with my son. The child is in his teens now and he is, to my reluctant chagrin and his, a most promising Kluthu warlock. He listened to my directions and followed them to the letter. He is carefully studying the wretched demons and their magicks, slowly gaining their strengths… and making plans to exploit their weaknesses.

In addition he was also learning portals, an enterprise I was glad I had goaded him into. It seems that regardless of the lack of portals into and out of this world, the Kluthu know a substantial amount about them. Steven told me that our beneficent hosts were once exiles into this world, that they were once part of a massive demonic empire that stretched across countless worlds. They were exiled here which meant that this place was a prison world, theirs as much as ours.

Steven told me that they were banished here by their masters for supposedly trying to take control of the empire. They lost.

And so they are here now, waiting for a chance to return…

_It never really ends._

_That lie you tell yourself._

_The moment you tell yourself one lie you've already created another one to take its place_

Look inside yourself, Destroyer. There, you'll find the real hell.

Connor wasn't sure if the voices came from the TV, real people or from the cancerous insanity in his head but one thing's for sure, he wanted them gone.

Connor was sitting on the deck of the Starship Enterprise. He was wearing a Jedi outfit, complete with flashlights and light sabers. In front of him, seated on a beanbag, was Darth Vader.

"Uh huh." He said deadpan. "I have gone insane, haven't I?"



Vader took off his helmet to reveal Angel underneath. He looked at him with loving yet condescending eyes. "Hey son. How's life?"

"Great. Another imaginary voice in my head."

Connor gave up trying to ignore the voices in his head long after he got his memories back. With the understanding that resistance would only lead to accelerated insanity, he would strike conversations with these voices, but never for a second believed them. It was his little formula for staying sane. He would indulge the voices but as always, made it a point to never become attached to them.

Angel snickered a little at Connor's odd response. "Uh come on. Do you have to be surly all the time?"

"Only when I have voices in my head. Among other things, a lot of them seem to be popping up in my skull these days." Connor pointed a tired finger at Angel/Vader.

"You wanna talk about them?" Angel asked.

"Sure, why the hell not? I always wanted to talk to imaginary voices about the topic of imaginary voices."

Angel chuckled. "When did this all start?"

"Oh around the time I got hit by the bus. The first one to pop in was Jasmine. You remember her, right? Super power thing-y that wanted to bring love to the world and eat people. God, remembering all that is a bitch!"

"What did you do?" Angel asked again like a therapist.

"I ignored her, of course. Even though she was technically my daughter, I never did like her. Never did think of her as anything but a fragile reflection of my hopeful lies. All the things I've done for her, I did for Cordy. I always knew what she was. I never forgot what she really wanted… even when I was lying to myself."

"She reminded you of Cordelia?"

"Yeah, Kinda. After a while Jasmine got tired of saying things into my head. She disappeared only to be replaced by Cordelia. Every time I was with Tracy, I could hear her voice in my ear, her breathe, her scent. It drove me insane just thinking about her and at the same time wondering if she was just a dream and if not, if she truly loved me. A guy kinda gets scared thinking about that, you know. Wondering if his lover really loves him or not.

"You, know its kinda funny, talking about her. I once had this dream of her. In it, she and Darla were arguing. Next thing I knew they were killing each other, I mean ripping at each other, literally. Couldn't sleep for three days after I dreamt that. Lasted a few months after I got to college and me and Tracy broke up. Did you know I nearly got Tracy pregnant too? Thank God, those were only the memories. My parents would explode if they knew the things I could father."



Angel smiled a little.

"Yeah, I'm stupid but Cordelia was always there, just beneath the surface. She never did disappear. Neither, did Jasmine. Sometimes they'd come back in between other dreams. Like commercials. Every time I'd dream of Quor'toth or when some voice inside my head wanted to harangue me, they're there."

"Yeah?" Angel's eyes seemed curious.

"Yeah. He'd usually come in with a German accent. Dressed himself up as Van Helsing and told me to help him hunt bunnies and leprechauns."

"Leprechauns?"

"What can I say? I'm just that crazy." Connor was suddenly somber. "He was my father, Angel. Sure, he betrayed me but then again so did you, right?"

Angel seemed to flush with regret.

"Yeah, Holtz is as much a part of my life as you and everyone else in my family. It's too bad he loved vengeance more than me." Connor's voice did not echo with anger or sorrow but pity, pity for his onetime father from Quor'toth.

"They're all here," Connor tapped his brain with two fingers. "Including all the memories, the ones you hid and the ones Holtz hid. They won't stop talking and they keep stressing me out. But don't feel bad about it, you're not my first dream friend and I certainly won't expect you to be the last. I had a few demon… acquaintances in Quor'toth and I'm expecting them to get in here sometime soon, new collections for the hell inside of me. And who knows, maybe even Fred, Gunn, Lorne and Wes might arrive soon then my brain can finally turn into a nice little train wreck. Yipppeee!"

"Connor…" Angel reached out to his son as Connor put his head on his hands and began to sob.

"I'm reverting, Angel, Quor'toth's coming back out. I thought that if I could find you, it would stop. The dreams, the guilt, the continuing darkness just behind the back of my skull. Those are the real reasons I was trying to find you. I'm scared of turning back to that… that thing. I know I was lying to myself but I did just about everything not to feel helpless, even if I knew it was a lie.

"But I can't find you. And now my head is getting worse." Connor burst out a yell and kicked the controls of the ship. "I'm losing my mind. There is apparently an upcoming demonic invasion, people are getting sick from some unknown disease, magic inspired disasters are blowing up all over the world and, to top it all off, my dad's dying!"

Angel waited until he knew Connor had spent all his rage.

"I'm sorry." Angel muttered at last.

"For what?" Connor asked.



"Everything. Lying to you. Kicking you out. I don't know. Somehow, everything that you've been through makes me feel that I'm partially guilty for. Like you're paying for my sins because I can't deal with it all on my own."

"You shouldn't feel that way, Angel. Yeah, you weren't all that. But whatever wrong I did, it happened because of me, not you." Then Connor added in a sadder voice. "I wasn't exactly the best son in the world."

"I wasn't the best father in the world either. I only wish you could forgive me?"

"Sure I do, dumbass. But only if you do to me too?"

Angel smiled. "Of course I do."

"Thanks. You're great."

"Likewise."

The two just sat at their chairs looking forlorn and lonely, feeling an empty hollow sensation that seemed to permeate the entire ship.

It was broken by Connor's attempt at humor. "I'm taking up law, you know."

"Figures," Angel snickered. "I destroy a demonic law firm and my son wants to become a lawyer."

"Must be Karma. You killed your human family. I tried to bury you under the ocean. You have a lot of crimes in your past and now you're doomed to never stop atoning for them." Connor smirked and looked at his father. "I like older women probably because you dated a seventeen year old girl."

Angel looked at Connor curiously. "How did you…"

"I was right!"

"Damn. Showed my cards."

"So? Who was she?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"I'll find out eventually. Come on, you should have known by now that secrets are bad. They lead to underwater diving and nasty end of the world type disasters."

"Her name's Buffy." Angel said with a tinge of annoyance.

"Buffy? Riiight, nice name."

"Yeah, Slayer."



"Vampire Slayer? Like Faith? You dated a vampire Slayer and you're a… Wow. And I'm supposed to be messed up. You do realize that those girls kill things like you, right?"

"Don't be a brat."

"I'm twenty. You should be saying 'don't be a dick.' So when did you…"

"Before L.A. Before you."

"Just drifted apart, huh?"

"No, it's not that. We just had to… We uh… It's complicated."

"Were there ever uncomplicated things in your life?" Connor smirked. "I was born from demons. Raised in hell. Fathered a hell god. Given false memories and then have my real memories restored and reminded that I'm a bloodthirsty warlock. I think I can handle complicated."

Angel sighed and began to relate the Buffy/Angel history: the curse, the suffering from a moment of true happiness, Angelus, the fall into a hell dimension, the return to this world and the eventual tragedy.

Connor listened attentively and muttered: "You loved her?"

"More than you could imagine."

"How about Darla?"

"No." He said with a calm voice void of any defensive resentment. Connor found it distressing that he accepted this with calm resignation.

"Cordy?"

Angel became sullen at the question. "Connor, please."

"Did you love this… Buffy Summers as you loved Cordelia?"

"Are you asking me if I loved Cordy more?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Connor laughed wickedly. "Because Dad! Because! Because I need to know how close you came to peace and happiness. Because I need to know that one day I'll be able to go for my own peace of mind, knowing that there is such a thing as wanting a happy ending and getting a happy ending. Because I need to find myself one day not fighting myself, if I should continue fighting or not. Because I need to know that it's okay to be happy."

"Aren't you now?"



"I can't dad. Not with the things around me. And I know I can't walk away and let others fight this thing, because I know that it will cost me everything I hold dear if I just look away from what I know to be necessary for me to do! Dad," He shook his head in dismay. "If you gave them up as you gave me up…" he raised a hand to quiet Angel. "I need to know, dad. I need to know why. I need to know what was so important for you to cast aside everything good and happy and dear to you. I need to know that I won't have to do the same for the people around me. That no one I love will suffer because of who and what I am if I am to stay close around them. I need to be able to get out of bed one day and realize that all the hells and prophecies and demons won't matter a single bit, and that I could be happy and free to be with the people I love. Because if protecting all you love means letting them go… I… I don't think I'm strong enough to make that kind of decision."

Angel smiled proudly at his son, "You should rephrase your question, son."

"Why did you give up your happy ending?"

"Better," Angel said. "But you haven't gotten there yet."

"Why did you do the things you do?"

"Bingo." Angel straightened up and smiled. "If you had done the things I've done Connor, if you'd seen the pain and misery and terror that Angelus had done perhaps you might understand. I couldn't actually tell it to you in words but I think that I could come close if I told you that I did it all for peace of mind."

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"That girl… in the warehouse does she bother you in your sleep?"

"Yes." Connor said simply.

"Well I have a lot of things like that up in my own head. Only there're hundreds of them… not one . You could say I was trying to make up for all the wrong things I've done but then again you can't change something like that, not a single one. At first, I figured that if I could get enough good deeds I might be able to balance the scales. Like you, I was trying to find a way out of the nightmare."

"Not the same."

"Oh, yes the same. Just different reasons. I tried to fight everything that reminded me of my past - the demons, the darkness - but it wasn't that simple. I expected a purpose. Always, I expected that if I fought hell long enough and hard enough I might get out of the tunnel, away from my past. But every time I thought I could be absolved of everything that I've done as Angelus, everything just became more obscure and untrue. I ignored the gray areas of my every belief more than once. I came so close to turning into a Wolfram and Hart lackey." Then Angel looked Connor squarely in the eye. "Then I remembered the thing that inspired me to start my long struggle in the first place, and realized that the light at the end of the tunnel was not real. It was the light inside me that I kept seeing not some distant reward… and it would remain there if and only if I kept fighting the dark… a selfless existence was my 

salvation. It was then that all of the gray became lost and there was finally clarity. I remembered suddenly that I fought not for a reward or happy endings, but for a chance to change who I was. Who I was, Connor, that was it. It was not about having, it was about being.

"How many good deed does it take to fix a wrong? How many lives do you have to save to make up for one death? The answer is that you can't. The person will still be dead and all the goodness in the world will not ease once person's agony. And when I finally understood that I kept going anyway, even without all the rewards. You want to know why?" Connor just stared blankly at him. "Because I have chosen to do so. Because every time I fight, every time I keep going I become someone who isn't Angelus, I become completely severed from my past. That doesn't mean I don't deserve the punishments for my past, it probably means I even deserve them more, but for what it's worth I've found peace with myself. In the end, the only real choice a man has is who he wants to be. I couldn't stop being that person that I've chosen to become, son. If I stop being that person I've become, then I am no better than Angelus again.

"It was, I figured out later, my reward: to be Angel. No other reasons. It wasn't Shanshu. But, then again, I didn't start out with a Shanshu. It just came later, and frankly, it made the gray areas grayer. I started out with a clear understanding of my reasons and convictions. I guess along the way, I just forgot."

"But now you remember."

"If you ever want to find out if you've completed your purpose in life Connor, here's the best advice I can give you: If you're still alive, it isn't. Along the way I've found happiness even love but I always knew deep down that I would never find a happy ending. So you'll just have to live for me on that one."

"Don't you… Don't you long to be human again?"

"Longing? Yes. All the time. But I would never choose to follow that path. Like I've told you. That path would make me despise myself and in the end I'll only end up hating myself and I'll be back to where I was before. I've chosen this life: wandering, aimless but complete."

"Why? Why did you give it all up?"

"Because I loved them. I became this person because I loved them… I gave up Buffy because I loved her. The only other person that could compare to the pain of losing her is you." Angel touched a tear coming down Connor's cheeks.

Connor was struck by the weight of those words and how it explained everything so simply yet so deeply. Love.

After a while Connor spoke as he shook his head. "I'm not like you, Angel. I can't choose to give up all that is good in my life just to become someone that has a peace of mind. I realized that in the warehouse when I should've saved that girl. You don't understand what my family means to me. My friends. The people I live, work, and study with. They're my…"



"Holy Grail," Angel cut off. "A long time ago, a girl named Buffy was like that to me too." He took a black and white picture from his sleeve, the one Connor found in storage. "Cordelia was like my anchor, she made me feel that I wasn't fighting for nothing. Always, she was there to remind me of the path I had taken. She made me feel that the things around me were real and that the gray was as real the darkness and the light. It was she that made me keep going. I loved her for that." He sighed. "But Buffy… she was something else. She was the one- true kind, you know. You could say she showed me this path, helped me find the person that I had always wanted to be. She started me on this and at the end of it she was there. Beginning and end. She was my reason and she was my humanity. She was my happiness. Everything that I had ever wanted of paradise was with this girl.

"Your mother, Darla was like a wild high, an adrenaline rush that ended with a bloody and sobering agony. Cordelia was like a rock to keep me focused on who I really was. But Buffy, was like the place beyond the darkness, beyond the cause for all the pain and misery. She was something real. Probably the closest I got to heaven. Until you came along, my every hope for happiness in life and the rewards of a long and bloody battle as well as whatever humanity I had in me was tied with her. And in the end I gave her up. I gave them all up… As I gave you up. I loved each of these women in different ways and in different degrees. But in the end they no longer mattered because I chose to be someone who couldn't be with any of them. Or anyone. I became alone. This may be hard for you to understand but I guess this is just me, Connor."

"Every guy dreams of going home, dad," Connor muttered.

"What?"

"Every soldier since the dawn of time wants to go home. To their wives. To their parents. To their children. Your life dad…" Connor began to cry. "I can't even imagine… I lost my family!" It was Connor Reilly that shouted, not the Destroyer.

"No you haven't."

"Oh please!" Connor retorted. "We both know that that isn't true." A shadow seemed to consume his face. "What will happen to me?! I'm not like you, Angel! I can't and I'm afraid to be like you! Your sacrifices! Your choices! It's all too much for me, man! I can't! Someday a girl will come along and then a family, friends, a home… All of them will be my reason. Are you telling me that I can't choose to have any of that?"

"No one's asking you to. This world will fall and die or it will continue to live but no one will ask you to choose anything… It didn't do so with me… And it won't with you. Things happen around us and we can only act a certain way. Just find out who you really want be Connor… That's the only thing you are really responsible for… In the end choices are harder to accept than fate or destiny."

Connor seemed to accept this and finally spoke to a patiently waiting Angel. "Can I at least ask you where you are now?"



"Please! You're talking to a figment of your imagination!" The image of Angel only smiled and he was suddenly walking through a gaping hole in the Enterprise . He was walking out into space, no longer wearing the Darth Vader costume but his own leather coat.

"Wait! Don't go!" Connor yelled. Angel just kept walking. Connor ran for the hole but the distance seemed to increase and Angel's figure was growing smaller and smaller. Connor's body was being devoured by a pack of demons. "Don't, Angel! Come back! I can't do this! I can't do this alone!"

"Good bye son," Connor seemed to hear a faint echo of his father's voice. "Your time will come. Sahjahn, Jasmine, they'll be footnotes in your life. Your real test is coming but you must choose… I'm proud of you, Connor, never forget that. You're far stronger than you think. You'll come through in the end. You'll see."

Connor kept running for the hole that was now just a bright light. He stopped only when he stumbled on something and he tried to stand up, as he did he found himself suddenly plunging into darkness...

As he plunged all he could remember next was a man offering him some cheese.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm Neo.

Okay, well except he didn't get hit by a van and brought to a law firm…

But you know, there're similarities… kinda.

Seeing the World for what it really is,

Being stripped away of everything you know to be true,

Being plunged into a new reality.

I've experienced that many times…

And they all suck!

When Connor woke up he knew he had been dreaming again. The words and the conversations and the discoveries were all pieces of information he already knew. The dreams, he thought with awe, somehow helped him piece together those facts to create a picture. And always he knew that whatever dangers and mysteries await him, he knew that he had all the facts.

All that was missing now was to piece it together. He felt it there, that ominous sensation of a terrible purpose. He knew it but he didn't _know_ it. The pieces gave him glimpses of it. And because of what he knows of what he can dream, he was suddenly afraid that this road was taking him somewhere that he doesn't want to be and he wouldn't be able to escape until it was too late.



Connor had been sitting still on his chair for the entire vigil since the previous night. Laurence Reilly's condition was critical and seriously in danger the night before. Kit and his mother were also tense, praying in the hospital chapel for quite some time. They had come back only a few hours ago since their rest at home. Laurence had been unconscious, in a state of peril just like the other cases all over the world. Connor wasn't doing better than the Reilly women. His mental discussions and illusionary flashbacks were slowly augmenting the stress and fatigue brought on by the never ending anxiety of the dangers that surrounded him. Fighting demons and apocalypses wasn't supposed to be his job but oddly, he knew that it was.

He now knew that he could not walk away. A war was coming and the easy choices would cost him everything that he loved. He had to fight, for his family and his loved ones; for his memories and for his peace of mind. It might not seem safe or sane to the typical person but then again, Connor's life had never been typical. It all seemed laughable but not really.

Connor was walking peacefully along the hospital corridor when he picked up a familiar scent. He followed it until he found what he was looking for. He grabbed Lawin and ducked into a broom closet, slamming him against the wall.

"Why in God's name won't you leave me alone!"

Lawin was choking but Connor didn't care. He applied more pressure. He stopped only when he saw Lawin raise a piece of paper with a symbol on it.

Connor looked at it and loosened the pressure but made sure that Lawin couldn't move.

"Find anything new?" Lawin asked with a sardonic smile.

"There are more demons here than in Quor'toth." Connor retorted with the same sarcastic tone. "And you?"

"Oh, not much. I went to a mutual acquaintance." Lawin raised the paper again and gestured for Connor to take it. "He told me you might want to take look at this… Something about your dad."

"Which dad?" Connor looked like he wasn't impressed, but he seemed very close to killing Lawin.

"Both of them."

"This better not be another damn joke."

"No, it isn't. I promise. Remember Malachi?"

"Weirdo man? Yeah. What about him?"

"That guy knows a lot more than he's letting on. He wants you to listen to some things he has to say."

"Right. So you're working for him now? No more Ancients. Moonlighting with other people? Why didn't he come here and talk to me himself?"



"Don't know. He told me things, things that made me want to listen to him… But before he goes further, he wants you to come along. Don't ask me why. That guy's a freak. Just listen to his offer. He knows about our most recent activities - how we're screwing up from one demon hole to another. He knows something about this disease and even more about the Horde."

"I already know about the disease. It's Kluthu. Does he have a cure?"

Lawin looked at the rooms with the patients infected by the demonic plague. "I don't know. You'll have to ask him that yourself."

"I know enough about the disease. All I care about now is a cure for my dad!"

Lawin gave Connor a smug look. "I'm just the messenger. Whatever you decide, you'll listen to me first goddamit! You saw those other patients with the disease?"

Connor released Lawin, got out of the broom closet and kept walking down the hospital corridor. Lawin followed the other guy, two steps behind. "Two of them were girls. See, the news lately? The places hit by the disease have girls on their list, young girls in their teens and twenties."

"Right, sick girls get you hot. Got it. Now, go away." Connor snapped.

Lawin stopped then blurted out two words. "They're Slayers!" Connor looked over at him with a look of surprise. "There've been a lot of Brits running around here lately."

"The girls that are among the ones hit by the plagues are Slayers. At least the ones that have been reported by the Watcher's Council. God knows how many more are sick out there."

"Slayers," Connor muttered. "That's impossible. There is only one Slayer."

"That was before." Lawin then related the events that followed the activation of the scythe.

"Holy shit!" Connor thought about an army of Faiths. He was struck by the power of it, and then he blushed at something that came into his mind.

_Lawin, something's wrong. He's not suitably surprised._

_He said holy shit. He seems surprised enough to me._

_Boy, I am telling you that…._

Lawin ignored the Scion and focused back on Connor. "Malachi said he has an idea of how to fix this but he wants us in it together. Don't argue with me. I'm just bringing the message. He said something about him not being seen. I don't know. Come with me to his place, he'll explain in detail the nature of the plague and how we may stop it." Lawin could see that Connor still had reservations, so he dropped the bomb. "There's also another thing Malachi wanted me to give you."



Lawin handed the piece of paper to Connor. It had the symbol of the Blackthorn on it. "A lead to Angel," he said.

Connor looked up at him. Lawin was preparing for a difficult question but all that Connor asked was: "Hundreds of Slayers, huh?" His eyes were suggesting something else at the thought of a hundred super heroines.

Lawin smiled.


	14. Chapter 14: Plans

**Chapter 14: Plans**

Malachi had been thinking very critically these past few days. Once he had decided upon his course of action, seeing it follow through became easier. The people upstairs had stopped sending him visions. His "colleagues" had all left for safer dimensions. The end game was fast approaching. He was the only one left on the sinking ship – that wasn't even sinking yet!

_Goddamn pussies! Every last one of them! The boys up there just didn't have any guts anymore. Look at that mess with Angel! They just don't make 'em like they used to. A little complication occurs, and they're falling over each other trying to get to the goddamn lifeboats!_

_Well, at least I have Lawin's ear. That's one problem taken care of. All I need to worry about now is the great and mighty Mr. Nebadon Destroyer._

_Connor. Now there's a nice piece of killing machine if there ever was one. If only I could get him to work for me. Shouldn't be too hard, the little SOB doesn't have much when it comes to brain power. Manipulating him should be a simple enough matter. All I need to do is to guide his frustrated violence towards constructive directions._

_But how? Well, Mal old boy. You will need to concede something - that much is certain. Being a threat has nothing to do with power, as some dumb asses might think. No, being dangerous is all about purpose. Volatile people have desires, hatreds, frustrations, rage, passions… Angel had it! So do most of my colleagues… And Connor certainly has them in abundance._

Malachi looked at his wristwatch and smiled. Lawin and Connor should be there soon. Though, his prescience and visions had been dampened somewhat (thanks to cowardice of his superiors), he was pleased to know that he could still predict certain important events throughout the world.

_Good_, he thought. _It may not be what I'm used to, but it'll have to do for now. I need to be very careful. This is not a game. Sacrifices will have to be made. Many of them for the good of the universe, humanity, the powers (damn crap heads), peace, justice and Hollywood . Pah!_ Malachi was getting a little sick of his own cynicism.

_You have a plan Malachi, there's no backing out now. The others might not agree with you, but things need to be done. Things of necessity, that requires a lot gambling and sacrifice. It's a great plan. A pity I'm the only one who has any guts left to carry it out. Too many cowards in the office today… Or perhaps they're right. Maybe I'm just mad. _Malachilaughed_._

The distant sound of a door opening and then slamming shut could be heard from Malachi's study. Two people had entered Malachi's remodeled sanctum. Their voices could reach him from afar. They were arguing. Something, about his abode being infested with magic. The voices became louder and louder as the two approached Mal's study.



The mentalist smiled when he heard Connor's voice arrogantly calling out to him, probably a little uneasy at the magic inside the sanctum.

"Harry Potter told me that you have something to say to me. So, say it." Connor directed the question at Lawin but the other guy just gave him a shrug. Connor turned to Malachi. "This had better not be another damn FBI – Mafia story."

Malachi chuckled. "Please have a seat Mr. Reilly. Or Mr. Angel. Or Mr. Holtz. Whichever you would prefer?"

Connor stayed standing, glaring menacingly at the two. He then turned to Lawin and snarled: "You said he knew something!"

Lawin just gave a condescending look. It was Malachi who answered.

"Straight to the point, I like that. But before I answer you, tell me what you know about the Circle of the Blackthorn." _Okay, I need to concede something if I intend to get this little bastard's attention._

Connor started fuming again. He didn't damn well come there to play games. What in Satan's unholy ass was this bastard up to? He turned to Lawin for answers.

"Just answer him. He's a bit of a drama queen," Lawin said.

"Demon cult. Powerful. Very secretive. They bind their life force to a common energy and that energy gives them unimaginable power, biblical even. These guys then use their life force and the resulting energies of their powers to channel dark elements back and forth between the dimensional levels of existence, from higher to the lower plane, from corporeal to non corporeal, like middlemen dealing international drugs. They served the Wolf, Ram and Hart in this world but in Quor'toth, they served the Kluthu… Angel told me about the one here. He destroyed it a couple years back and now the Wolf, Ram and Hart are pissing blood. Look, I know that you know that I know about these mystic societies so I don't even know why I'm putting up with this crap. You want me to give you the encyclopedic version? I don't think so. This is all crap. The Blackthorn is gone and wiped out! Now spill what you know about this plague and its connection with Angel!"

Malachi smiled a bit and spoke. "Wrong."

"What's wrong?"

"You're wrong about the Blackthorn being wiped out. And Wolfram and Hart is still around, though weakened."

"Are they the cause of these things that are happening now?"

"No."

"Are they a threat?"



"No."

"Then why the fuck are we talking about them? Wolfram and Hart was Angel's target not mine. Unless they try to screw the memories out of my brain, I came here to know what you have to say about Angel! So either tell me or you can just go screw yourself." Connor knew he was being played by this facetious jackass and he had had about enough. If this guy wanted to play games, he didn't. He had a mystical epidemic to stop, and more problems crawling up his ass every minute, so he began to leave.

"The reason the Blackthorn was not wiped out is because one of its members survived." Connor kept walking. "This particular member had killed the other members of the cabal."

Connor's hand was already on the doorknob when he stopped at the sudden realization. "It was Angel." Suddenly Connor felt himself to be the dumbest person in the world. He turned around and it was then that Malachi knew he was ready to listen to reason.

"Yes." Malachi said and gestured for Connor to take his seat. Lawin was sitting quietly lost in his thoughts, looking inward. Connor complied. "The senior partners had every power to destroy Angel but they didn't. And why? Because he was the last shred of their precious circle. In destroying him, they might as well have destroyed every hope of restoring the circle itself and with it, their connection with this world. No, they didn't want Angel dead, well, at least not until they could get a new circle up and running."

"Angel's their prisoner?" Connor was suddenly exited.

"No. The powers made sure that their Champion would escape and so they opened a dimensional vortex… The senior partners have never stopped hunting him, though. But then again it's a whole different ballgame for your father now." This was the truth.

"And Illyria and Gunn?"

"I'm sorry Connor but they were not in the interests of the powers, so sorry."

Connor turned red with anger again. "But Spike and Angel were?" He said in a sarcastic voice.

"Angel, yes." Malachi looked at Lawin knowingly. "Spike, no."

Lawin glared back malevolently. "You have your Champions. The Ancients have theirs. You save yours, we save ours."

"And the expendables die," Connor added bitterly. "You two are a couple of regular jerk offs aren't ya?"

Lawin looked at Connor's direction icily. "Says the guy who was a psychopathic killer. Dream about that girl in the warehouse lately, Connor? You know, the one who got her throat cut because you wanted to prove your love for Cordelia."

Malachi shot Lawin a glare that made him shut up. Connor looked like he was going to flare up, but he kept it in and tried to continue the discussion.



"Spike was not one of ours," Malachi continued. "He was a plot by another super-society calling themselves the Ancients. I believe you're already familiar with them Connor?"

"Oh yeah, Bruce Lee here told me how much his employers love screwing with the powers that be."

Lawin flared at the retort and became vindictive. "First of all, Spike was Spike. He had a purpose, just like your father. He served that purpose, like your father… just as we are serving ours. Just like you."

Malachi was amused at the statement, but he kept quiet. _Connor doesn't have a purpose young Zarakite. That's the reason why everybody's scared shitless of him._

"Spike may have caused complications, but then again so did your daddy. As to giving him his soul, I didn't have a choice at the time…" Lawin's words just trailed off.

"Uh huh, that's nice." Connor didn't care about Spike. He then turned back to Malachi. "And how exactly have you come to this information?"

"I too serve the powers that be… only in a different way."

Connor raised an eyebrow.

"The Powers have this nasty habit of giving those that serve them visions, or more accurately to see the parts of a greater vision. Doyle, an old friend of your father's was born with the special ability to receive such visions. Doyle was to be eliminated and the visions passed on to the power's Champion."

"Angel," Connor muttered.

"That's right. But the Powers were scared that Angel might not have the qualities, which you must understand was a well founded suspicion, given his tendencies with… uh, gray areas. They withheld their _gift_ until they were sure he had the balls for the job. Doyle obeyed them, sure, but sacrificing himself for the noble good unfortunately, did not fit into the greater scheme of things. Giving the responsibility of getting Angel the visions to a pretentious girl with shallow aspirations for acting was not a part of the greater scheme of things! You," Malachi pointed at Connor. "were not part of the greater scheme of things. An unprecedented being that is beyond the ken or explanation of any previous knowledge. Ahhh, but what is done is done, and even the powers must contend with these problems, like what we have now."

"Free will," Lawin snorted.

"Angel." Connor ignored the sardonic comment. "Is he still… ah alive? Undead, I mean."

"You will not find him, Connor. Only the powers know where he truly is and they would never show it to someone like me, much less you." Malachi lied on the last part.

"That is not an answer. I want specifics. Where?"



Malachi smiled. "As I've told you, he's in another dimension. The boys upstairs are still trying to get a lock on him but it's hard. A lot of demons want him dead."

"You want him alive then? The powers want to save Angel?" Connor asked.

"Yes. They do," Malachi said. _To serve a purpose that you can't possibly begin to imagine. _

"I'm sorry to interrupt this brilliant discussion," Lawin said. "But I think we should delay talk about irrelevant issues and focus on our more immediate problems, like the massive demonic armies come to destroy all our worthless asses."

"Ah yes, thank you Lawin. Connor would you care to digress?"

Connor shrugged. "I originally came here for the cure. You telling me about Angel was just an added bonus."

"Yes. Anyway, as you can clearly see," A map moved from a table and into the center of the room. The two other boys didn't seem the least bit perturbed by this act of telekinesis. "The red dots on the map mark the hot spots where the disasters have occurred: tsunamis, earthquakes, Tornados, volcanic eru…"

"I already know that! There doesn't seem to be any connection with the Horde there." Connor complained.

"Oh but there is."

"Look I know all about the disasters okay? I've found the location of the demons creating these disasters. They're not creating the plague!"

"I said there's a connection, Connor, I didn't say that the two incidents were being done by the same perps." Connor looked at Lawin for some explanation.

The other guy simply said. "This is where the real fun starts."

_Lawin, the warlock is not particularly surprised by this news. _Lawin answered by swearing to the voice with his thoughts.

Malachi continued: "The powers fight the darkness all throughout existence. This world is only one battlefield…"

"This so called battlefield is our world!" Connor snapped.

"Of course. As I was saying, the reach of the powers is unimaginable. Which is why when you work for them, you get to broaden your perspective. And this perspective unfortunately makes for some very serious problems. Remember Quor'toth, Connor?"

Connor just glared harder at Malachi.

"Well how about Nebadon?"



Connor's eyes looked scared all of the sudden. "Destroyer," he translated.

"Or if said in different inflection, the corruption that corrupts itself. Nebadon, The name they gave you. The name your teachers gave you."

"So you know about them. Why don't you enlighten me some more?"

"With pleasure. The Horde that is coming here is not really invading." Malachi answered.

"But you said…"

"I lied at that time. There were too many ears listening." Malachi looked at Lawin with knowing eyes. Before De La Vega fetched Connor, Malachi told him where and how to find the demon spies being sent by Urkonn to observe him. They were all dead now.

"I needed _them_ to believe that you two knew nothing. They wanted you to know that the Horde was invading." _Of course_, Malachi thought amused, _that too is a lie._

"That's why you wanted us to go to a more secure place."

"Yes, certain interests don't want anything to interfere with that. What's really happening now is that the Horde is retreating and they are retreating here!"

"And when _they_ get here they'll wipe out humanity and set up defenses to make a stand against an even more powerful demonic army," Lawin said bitterly.

Malachi furrowed his brows in what appeared to be anxiety. "Care to guess who and what they are running from?"

"The Kluthu. My warlock teachers." Connor became quiet. The Kluthu plague was there. It was no longer out of the realms of possibility to expect the Kluthu themselves to attack this world, so Connor simply voiced his questions. "They would never leave Quor'toth. The portals that lead to it have been closed."

"Are closed. Yes, that's true. But given enough motivation and power…" He shrugged. "Look at you, for example, you managed to escape from that place, eh? You managed to tear yourself a gateway with the help of Angel. You know what the Kluthu are. They have been buying their time amongst the power groups in the hell worlds. And now that they have, they're going big league. It's so bad, in fact, that the powers have even ordered its agents to abandon this world. They believe it to be a lost cause. Even, your father, Angel is no longer here. Anyone or anything capable of opening a portal is getting his ass as far away from this world as he, she or it can. Gentlemen, I shit you not. We are at ground zero in something that is going to be very, very nasty."

Lawin then asked, "This doesn't add up completely. If the Klug… whatever is fighting the Horde why fight here? Why not fight in their own worlds."

"The powers gave me a vision that the Kluthu are trying to take control of the hell worlds within the Horde's sphere of influence. The Horde's retreating here, the disasters, the plague created by the 

Kluthu; You must remember that this world used to be inhabited by demons, Horde demons. If this was a world held by the Horde then I think the Kluthu want it as well."

"Over my dead, rotting body," Connor said. He thought back to Quor'toth, the darkest of the dark worlds. It had many demons there and endless magical possibilities, dark and demonic, yes, but still possibilities. The most powerful demons with the most powerful powers were the Kluthu, an ancient confederation of warlock clans that were once subservient to the Horde. That was long ago though, long before the Horde's power diminished, back when they still ruled over many universes. However, as the Horde began losing their power and worlds to any that opposed them, the Kluthu severed their umbilical cord and began massing powers for their own use. It was taught to Connor while he was still in Quor'toth that one day the Kluthu would overthrow the Horde and take those powers as their own.

Connor cared little for their demon politics. After all, he was there to study the dark arts as a necessity to survive. Also they were holding Holtz prisoner, using him as bargain in case the boy proved too stubborn. At first, Connor had refused but in the end even Holtz strongly suggested that he should learn the dark arts as a means of necessity and survival.

So learn, he did. The Kluthu were very powerful warlocks and Connor was an apt student. He was so good with dark energies that he was even elevated into high esteem among the demons mages and given a blood name that would be echoed by all that opposed him, Nebadon – the Destroyer.

As the years passed, Connor became more adept at using his powers. He had the chance of using those powers against rival warlock clans. In battle, Connor was Nebadon who slaughtered with brute strength and arcane sorcery, doing justice to his blood name. With each passing battle though, the warlocks of the Kluthu and his teachers thought that they were slowly gaining power over this unique entity that had inadvertently stumbled into Quor'toth. They thought that the boy enjoyed the dark path and that he was one of them. This belief was shattered when one day Connor ambushed his Kluthu teachers in their chapter house and slaughtered most of them in a single room. He then proceeded to destroy half of the Kluthu complex with the very dark magicks he was taught.

It was in the ensuing chaos that Connor had rescued Holtz and the two escaped the demonic citadel and were free to live again on their own, safe from retribution from the Kluthu because of the sorcery knowledge Connor learned. The mages would think carefully about trying to hunt down so dangerous a creature, a creature they had helped create.

Connor, being Connor, hated his powers. He used them only in life and death situations. Holtz found the attitude towards magick admirable in his son, even though he thought it too idealistically impractical. As time passed, Connor's powers became more powerful and he mastered the inner powers locked within his unique form and essence. This allowed him to wield more demonic power than he could ever imagine… and this made him hate himself more.

Now, with _all_ his memories restored, Connor's powers and knowledge pertaining to the dark and mystical arts had returned as well - making him more powerful and twice as depressed.



A voice popped into Connor's head. _Why do you think you use hate magic so much? _

"There's another reason the Kluthu want this world," Malachi continued. "Ever heard of the deeper well?" The two looked at each other.

"Heard rumors from the Ancients about it." Lawin said.

"It's no rumor. Eons ago, before the Horde relinquished this world, there was a war between the leaders of the clans of the Horde, the old ones as they were called. The victors acquired control of most of the Horde demons that belonged to their rivals. Those who refused to defect were annihilated. As for the leaders that lost the civil war, they were sent into a state of unconsciousness, exile. Abandoned by the retreating Horde, their bodies were ultimately left for the powers to deal with. A chamber was constructed in present day Britain to house their remains and forever seal them off from the world." Malachi turned to Connor. "Remember Illyria ?"

"Met her briefly," he mumbled. There was also a slight warmth down there, on his sacred parts. Connor knew what Illyria 's powers were.

"She was one of those that were imprisoned in the deeper well. I believe you were aware of her powers?" The two nodded solemnly. "Good. Then I won't need to tell you how many potential apocalypse factories are down there in the well."

"Let me get this straight." Lawin said. "The Horde is coming here to make a stand against this Kluthu. The Kluthu is coming here to destroy what's left of the Horde. If I'm getting this right then the Horde wants to open up the deeper well so they could reform on this end and fight off the Kluthu. Which means the plagues, the disasters all over the world and all the supernatural crap being thrown around is all a prelude to big fat food fight."

Malachi smiled. "Give the guy a plush animal!"

"The Horde, the Kluthu, their target's the deeper well?" Connor asked.

"One of them. The circle of the Blackthorn was also a target until your father took care of that problem. So is the Slayer line. There are others but I do not know them as of this time." Malachi said. He stood up and walked to window in a quiet motion. "But these problems are not the first ones that must be addressed. We must start small."

"_We?_" Lawin and Connor asked.

Malachi sighed. These two were still hesitant to join his cause. "This is your last chance to help me. You may not believe it, but there is a way for the three of us to help stop this. So once again I am giving you a choice. Either continue with your futile attempts at fighting the darkness around you… Or join me and strike this thing at its very core. Make no mistake a war is coming! Two massive demonic armies will rush blindly against each other. The only casualties will be the inhabitants of this world. Everyone who has the power to stop this has gone off. Those of us left here are ON OUR OWN."



"So how can we help?" Lawin asked a bit amused, knowing full well that none of the people present were altruists.

"The Horde is already here. We're too late to stop them, but the Slayers can deal with them for now. We, however, need to make sure that there won't be a second front. The Kluthu are trying to open a portal. They're trying to enter this world. If they do..." Mal shrugged.

The boys sighed and Connor spoke: "And, we're the ones to stop them." Connor crossed his arms. "So what's the when and where?"

" Sunnydale , California . Two or three days from now."

"Are you serious? The Hellmouth?"

"Correction. Former Hellmouth."

"Whatever!" The two boys snapped at Malachi then Connor asked, "A demon army is invading a few days from now, and you just told us this!"

"Oh, like you two would have listened," Malachi snorted. "But, don't worry. I have a plan."

I went looking for some things about the local Hellmouth a few days back, mostly from the local warlocks. Small time. Nothing big. I left my duties to find these things: no clip notes or permission to leave. Which is why I got yelled at when I got back.

When Ashley and I went patrolling again, I decided to try and find more information about the things we discovered. It didn't go well. Ashley got a few bruises. And I have a large wound on my bloody backside. Painkillers in America are excellent by the way, probably the only good thing about the godrotting colonials.

I'm expecting a call from Glessing soon and probably one from old Rupert too.

I just hope Ashley's okay. She gets scared but she's always managed to pull through. Though she is a bit, how do they say it? Flakey. Never mind. Anyway, Nice girl. Good Slayer. I was wrong about her in the beginning. I thought she was the swooning type (See I can stifle my pride). Anyway I think she could become something great if she could get a better Watcher than me. After what happened she'll probably want a transfer anyway.

I went to what was the Hellmouth before any of this happened. It took me a few hours but it was no sweat getting there. I just hope Glessing doesn't find out. As for me, I found nothing… there were certain irregularities I would want to look at again but only once I've gone through some necessary study. Or maybe I won't be doing that, seeing as how Glessing will probably want me shipped back to Britain in a box.



Note to self: Remember that Malcolm is asking for you to get drunk with him later in that lovely little club right next to the stripper bar.

Aidan "The Nine Inches" Traverse

2005

Aidan and Glessing were yelling at each other. "I'm telling you, there's something wrong going on in that place." Aidan yelled.

"And I'm telling you that the Hellmouth in Sunnydale is gone! Do you have any idea of the danger that you put Ashley through? There's no telling how many demons were in that hot spot! You two might have been killed. And for what? A bloody goose chase that led nowhere? Aidan, forget the Hellmouth! You're needed elsewhere."

"Dammit, listen to me. Just because the Hellmouth's gone doesn't mean that the demonic activity there will be gone as well. Just give me Ashley and we'll…"

Hand hitting the table. "You'll what, Aidan? Chase phantoms? Run amok like it's the world cup? All our people are already spread thin. We can't afford to send you on a mad quest that will most likely end up with you hurting yourself! We've been through this before, the documents you gave Malcolm were all worthless! Most of them were just poems!"

"If they were so worthless why did the demons want to die over them?" Aidan yelled back.

"Because they choose to! They're not human and beyond our own understanding so ignore it at that."

"We should examine it again!"

"Bloody hell," Glessing muttered. "You listen to me, Traverse. You know Malcolm as well I. As of this moment he is our only archivist in California . Hundreds of research materials are pouring in everyday to his desk. We will not waste time or effort on your theories!"

"Dammit, William! Look I've done all the research just let me put my fears to rest. Give me a Slayer to take a look and we'll run back here as fast as we…"

"Stop! Just stop Aidan! The demonic rituals around California as well as the whole world have tripled. Reports are already coming in of massive demonic movements everywhere. This is a very big crisis and that is our immediate concern. We have to find the perpetrators as well as the causes of the demonic disasters and the plagues that have been targeting the Slayers! We can check your theories once and only once we have resolved the crisis. Until then, you will comply yourself in doing what you are told! Do I make myself bloody clear!"

Aidan was going to say something but soon relented. "Yes, sir. Perfectly clear." _You bloody twit!_ He wanted to add. He walked out without saying another word.



"Glessing give you a hard time?" Ashley asked sheepishly as Aidan walked out. She was waiting outside Glessing's office like a girl waiting to go to detention.

"The man's a bloody bureaucrat!"

"Yeah, but he only wants to take care of everybody. Make everybody safe. The way things have been around here I can't say I can blame him."

"Miss Townes…"

"Ashley." She smiled sheepishly.

"Ashley. You do know that I have only the highest respect for you and your ah… calling, right? So please don't take it the wrong way when I ask as to what it is that you want at this hour?" It was eleven in the evening.

Ashley seemed a bit nonplussed by the sudden defensiveness from this young Watcher. "Hey! What's your problem?"

"Oh, you know destruction around the world and all that? Not much. I'm sorry if I'm acting a bit of a prig lately but I'm really under a lot of pressure!"

"A bit? Oh Yeah. Big crisis. I get that, but that doesn't mean you could go around being a dick. If you don't want to talk, I can take a hint." Ashley began to leave.

"Ashley, wait. Oh bloody hell. I'm sorry for being such a twit. It's just that well people have been curious about me and my…uh…"

"Thing?"

"Yes. And now that it's out… with you. Unless you told _them_."

She shook her head. "No. I'm not Sydney Bristow. I don't like secrets or intrigue. Hey, I mean if the Council wants the Slayers to know they'll know, right? And besides, that's not even their business."

"No," he smiled. "I suppose not. But me being a twit has nothing to do with you. It's me… I'm just stupid."

"Look if you want to tell me more about it you will and if you don't, I promise not to talk. Besides, you're Quentin Traverse's grandson. Just want to get to know my new Watcher a 'lil better, that's all."

"My reputation precedes me," he said deadpanned.

"You better get going. The others are waiting for you with a little research in the lobby. I mean what are they paying you for, right?"

"Right." He gave off another faint smile. "Right. What was it you wanted to ask again?"



"I just wanted to check on how things are with the others back in the British Isles and all that... Everybody's tense these days, apocalypse and all… But we can so totally talk about that later when things aren't so… tense." She made a slight girlish gesture and pulled back. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Yeah, you too. I should've stayed in Christchurch . At least the sheep didn't try to kill you."

Aidan stepped inside his small room to change. The California branch in LA of the Watcher's Council was an old hotel building. Watchers stationed all over the West coast converged on the building as their nerve center. The change of clothes was pleasant. He was tempted to sleep but decided against it, besides his brain was throbbing again. He took out a pain killer and popped it into his mouth.

"You know you might get addicted to that." It was a Scottish accent.

Aidan turned around to see his old classmate, Malcolm Ingram against the frame of his door room. The guy was actually only two years older than Aidan but he already had the look of a ruddy twenty eight year old. Aidan's eyes flashed mischievously. "Aren't you supposed to be dead from all that researching?"

"I was but they decided that things were so godrotting bad that they decided to send me back!

The two shook hands. "How're yah, you bastard?"

"I'm actually rather great considering the circumstances."

"Circumstances! Hah! You call sleeping with a Vampire Slayer circumstances! I saw pictures of Brigid!" Malcolm winked knowingly.

"Pervert! Your charm is still bewitching, Malcolm." Aidan smirked with irony.

He gave Aidan a hardy slap on the back. "It'll be just like in the academy. Ingram and Traverse, the meanest lads since…"

"Laurel and Hardy."

Malcolm laughed and suddenly became sober. "I wan'ed tah say Beavis and Butthead. Hah! Listen, Dinna let Glessing up your arse. He has a tight fist but he means well." He then looked Aidan over. "You look like the devil man. Go get some rest. I heard about that stunt ye pulled. Once you get your act together, I and the rest of the young breed would like to talk to you in a pub later."

After a few more small talk, Aidan smiled and indicated that he was going to get some sleep but that was of course a lie since he walked out of the building a few minutes later, bypassing the other Watchers on duty, politely greeting them but also very much on the hurry.

Aidan took out his cell phone and called someone very important. "Hello, it's me. I have a problem. Glessing did not give me the permission to go that _place._"



The man on the other end, also British, said: "Blast him." The voice exited temporarily, followed by the sound of arguing on the other line. Someone kept shouting, "Shut up." Another voice said, "We need to pull out. Now! Get him out of there now!" The guy on the other end of the line came back.

"Trouble?" Aidan said sardonically.

The guy ignored the little boy barb. "Now you listen to me, Aidan! I don't care how you do it! You get to Sunnydale! Fast!" The other end began to argue again, but it was cut off before it even began. "We've risked and given too much to let this opportunity pass us by. My sources tell me that something momentous is going to happen there soon."

"I've already given you the information. Why can't you send someone else to deal with this damnable business?"

"We can't. We're spread thin, just like everyone else. There's too much trouble here. The Council is in disarray. The Slayers are in trouble. Buffy Summers is incognito – as far as most people are concerned. Rupert Giles' nose is up his arse. Add to that all the rumors about an upcoming demonic invasion…" The guy sighed.

"Do you think that the information that I've collected thus far, is somehow connected with our problems?"

"Possibly. Our sources are telling us some very troubling things about what you've found. Judging from some information we've gathered recently, something massive is going to happen in Sunnydale… soon. It's not a coincidence that you've found what you've found - It was given to you."

"I agree. What can you tell me about it?" The other line was silent. "You're keeping something from me, and I don't like it!"

"You will do as you are told, Travers. You will go to Sunnydale and you will find out how it fits to our problems."

"Don't I get back up? Anything at all?"

The voice on the other line became somber. "Just get to the Hellmouth!"

"And Giles?"

"We'll take care of Giles. Don't worry about that fool. _We_ are still the Council, Slayers or no Slayers! Not Rupert Giles! Get to Sunnydale. Once you've ascertained what it is that is going on there, call us again. We'll give you new instructions!" The call ended abruptly.

Aidan lowered his head in frustration. Damn it all! "Bloody Nutter!"


	15. Chapter 15: Where the Storm Gathers

**Chapter 15: Where the Storm Gathers**

Connor and Lawin were waiting on a bluff overlooking the crater that was Sunnydale. They were having a nice bitching session to relieve the tension.

"So let me get this straight." Lawin laughed. "You and Holtz ate demons in Quor'toth and then proceed to use their skin and anatomical body parts as clothing and weapons?"

"Stop laughing! We didn't exactly have McDonalds in hell!"

"Yes. Whatever, that's hilarious… in a sickeningly weird way."

Connor remembered that distant past, the lifetime that was not his anymore. A voice inside chuckled at the memory and taste of demonic flesh. The boy known as Connor Reilly flinched away, but Steven Holtz only laughed, and beyond them the dark and ruthless entity that resided within the deepest corners of Connor's twisted soul – the Destroyer

Connor remembered the taste of demonic magick beneath his skin, how it flowed and ebbed. How it had nearly consumed him. The Clutha had taught him many things, turned him into something else – _No! They were trying to find out what I am!_

_Did they succeed?_

_I don't know. I believe they failed, but… I just don't know. They're coming here though. The plague is proof enough of that. __Wherever the plague goes, the banished ones are sure to follow. The Clutha. _

_Yes, they're coming, no use denying it, and they need to be stopped._

_Are they coming for you?_

_I don't know. Maybe, but there's really no way to know that, is there?_

_No, there isn't._

_What will you do if you're forced to use your full powers?_

_I'm not going to risk turning into the creature the Clutha wants. Holtz and I sacrificed too much to avert that from happening._

_It may become necessary._

_It may not come to that…_

_And if it does?_

"What?" Connor snapped out of his reverie.



"I said, how much do you think Malachi knows?"

"I don't know. But while we're on the topic, he certainly knows a lot more than he should!"

"That's saying a handful. You trust him?" Lawin asked Connor.

"No. And I know you don't either."

"Then why help him?" Lawin asked.

Connor shrugged.

"Come on, I told you my reasons. So how about telling me yours?"

Connor sighed, exasperated. "Because Malachi said that the Clutha are trying to open a gateway here. If they are, I want to see it for myself." Connor wanted to add that he might be the only one in this world who knew how to stop the Clutha. "Besides, there's really no reason for that guy to lie to us."

Lawin nodded his head but he thought: Yes, there is. One reason to lie is that he's really trying to kill us. But you already know that, don't you? We're just a couple of back stabbing liars. "I don't like trusting people either. But if I know how things turn out, something unexpected is going to come up."

"You think a big ass war is really coming."

"Demon against Demon, Apocalypse-type war. I don't know, but if that's the case then I hope to God Malachi's lying."

"Well, if we pull this off we may not really know."

"And if Malachi's not out to screw us," Lawin added.

"Wrong question. If Malachi really is working for the Powers." Connor rasped.

"You think the powers would screw us?"

"I don't know. But they let my father become Cannon fodder."

"They're not the only ones." Lawin thought about the Ancients.

The two remained quiet for a time until Connor could no longer stifle his own curiosity. "Hey Lawin, the Ancients really created your powers huh? The same people who created Slayers?"

Lawin became suspicious. "Yeah…"

"And it's for guys only? Like only girls can become Slayers?"

"No, the Scion was meant for girls too. Rumor among the people I worked for goes that it was even meant as an upgrade for the Slayer if it wasn't so unstable. The whole guy thing was because Amazarak, 

my great and noble dickhead of an ancestor, changed the Scion so it would fit guys. Kinda one of the reasons why it's so unstable."

"Girls, huh? Why's that?"

"Something about females and childbirth. Perpetuation of life or something. Life magicks. I don't know. Why the third degree about the Scion?"

"No reason."

"Oh, there's something, white boy. Otherwise you'd not have asked the question."

Connor thought about this a moment. "You said you have a twin?"

_So that's it! Trying to figure out how my powers work_, Lawin thought. "Yeah."

"And your father also had a twin?" Lawin nodded and then smiled to himself. "Huh? Okay."

"Go on. Ask it."

"Ask what?"

"Uh stop bullshitting me man."

"Okaaay… What's with the twin thing?"

Lawin cleared his throat. "My powers, as I've told you, are unstable. Most of my ancestors went insane because of this thing in my head. So they created a twin, to sort of act as a… how do you say it…"

"A scapegoat?"

"No, but close. You hear about Slayers having visions of their predecessors?"

"Yeah."

"The Scion has that particular feature too."

"Lucky you."

Lawin laughed a bit. "Yeah but they're less like dreams and more like your-brain-is-going-to-be-turned-into-mush; already killed a lot of my ancestors because of it, those voices. And they're not so much as visions as they are very clear sounds. It's hard to describe.

"As for the issue of me having a twin, it has a lot to do with the fact that my powers are trying to kill me. It did so to some of my ancestors and most of the time it was successful in killing them. Until that is, one of those old bastards cooked up this idea to split the powers, you know, stabilizing it: Twins. When twins are born, the Scion is split into two. In my case I got the powers and the mystical crap while my twin…"

"Got the visions?" Connor asked.



"Voices, actually. Scions don't get dreams like Slayers do. Our dead ancestors whisper in our ears. As for the twin thing, I think this is done because the Scion and the voices sort of disrupt each other, causing us the whole straight jacket thing. So what do you do? Split em' in half. One twin gets the voices, the other gets the powers, both powerful in their own right, both destined to serve the Zarakim. End of lesson… any questions class?" All the voices were gone, Lawin wanted to add. All but one, the voice of the original Scion, Amazarak, could not be extracted without extracting the powers as well. Lawin didn't think Connor needed to know that he had a voice in his head. Oh wait he already did.

"So your brother has a lot of voices in his head."

"A lot. But somehow, he could control it. Turn it on and off… Unlike if I had it also... my brains would be splattered all over my skull. My uncle told me it something to do with the Scion."

"What happens if your brother dies?"

"I get the voices. And if I die, he becomes free of the voices."

"No powers for him?"

"No power for him."

"Bad deal."

"It is. Anything else?"

Connor looked Lawin intently. "What happens if a Slayer is born with a twin?"

The other boy scowled this time. "I don't know." This time Lawin was visibly perturbed.

It was almost midnight.

When Tommy Bolt arrived at the place that used to be called Sunnydale, he didn't really understand what the voices inside his head were telling him. But now, standing in front of a massive stone structure, he knew that it would bring him to places he could only imagine.

Tommy removed a talisman that he was recently tasked to retrieve, and placed it in front of the stone structure. He began to clear his mind and before he knew it he was intoning a mystical spell that he had never heard before.

"Oh sons of Quor'toth. Clutha, you who have been downtrodden by the false demons of old. Come into this unworthy world and claim vengeance on those who have oppressed you." A dark smoke began to form around the place Tommy was chanting. "The righteous shall fall before the wicked. The merciful shall be slaughtered in endless orgasmic joy. And all the land and the sea and the air shall know the endless ecstasy of a glorious new age! Let the heavens tremble at the march of the warlocks. Oh sons of Quor'toth take your rightful place!"



Tommy then took out a small knife and cut a large gaping wound out of thin air, the dark cloud was absorbed by the massive gash and blood began pouring into the ground. The ground began forming a metallic disk that looked like an ornate manhole cover.

"Oh yeah!" Tommy screamed with delight. "Come on baby! Let's Go! Wooooaaah!"

Tommy's delight was cut short by something that he heard. "What?" he muttered.

_Run!_

Tommy barely had time to escape when the circle where he was conducting his ritual blew up. When the debris passed, Tommy saw a Catholic priest standing in front of him.

"Now don't tell me you were actually trying to create a Hellmouth there now, were you?" The priest said. "Cause if you were, I might just have to pull your lungs out."

"They'll destroy you!" Tommy shrieked.

"Not if the First destroys them first. Huh? Made a funny," the priest snickered. "Be a good boy and I promise to just break your neck."

_Run! Help is coming! _

The voice inside Tommy's head gave him direction to where he could escape, so he got up and followed, behind him he could hear several wild creatures ripping each other to death. He didn't want to look back.

"Uh, come on back and play!" The priest looked back to see several snarling, five foot hellhounds beginning to encircle him. "Well, isn't that cute? Puppies."

The demons pounced on the lone figure of the priest and then the slaughter began.

Lawin and Connor climbed onto a nearby cliff. They observed the slaughter down below. The preacher that had tried to stop Tommy Bolt had managed to kill a dozen hellhounds before he was cut down into pieces. Unfortunately for the hellhounds that survived, a dozen Turok Han came to avenge his death. The hellhounds were also rescued with reinforcements.

"Those hellhounds are from Quor'toth." Connor muttered absently.

"And the First's preacher is dead." Lawin was still a little uneasy over their past conversation.

"Look." Connor pointed to what appeared to be demonic raiders with leather like armor. "I'm guessing those are demons from the Horde."

"Small scale. Malachi said that they could only push in two or three at a time through their portals. A prelude until they could get bigger a portal."



"Like a Hellmouth."

From what the two boys were seeing, they were convinced that Malachi had not deceived them. The Horde, the First and the Clutha were all fighting each other, trying to secure a new portal into this world. And they were killing each other down there in a sadistic frenzy. Turok Han against hellhound against Horde grunts.

If they slaughtered each other in these small numbers it was staggering to think what they would do if there were millions of them all over the world. Malachi had told them that and had devised a way to slow down the cataclysmic demon war on Earth. However, it required that the site of the Hellmouth be sealed even more. It might not stop the coming war but it would certainly slow it down.

"You ready?" Connor asked Lawin.

"Yeah. Did you get your beacons into position?" Prior to battle down below, Connor and Lawin had made special arrangements to create a mystical trap around the area of Sunnydale. It involved putting up a series of beacons all over the site. These were small things that could be hidden in the sand. And once they were activated, they would disrupt all demonic life signatures within their area of effect.

"Yeah."

Back at Malachi's place, they were told that the demonic factions were attempting to create another Hellmouth in Sunnydale as a way of transporting larger portions of their armies. There were other Hellmouths, of course, but activating them would draw too much unwanted attention. Their best course was to secretly make a new one. There was also the matter of who got there first since the first one got to have the ultimate advantage and practically won the war; currently that was the Clutha. And by either scenario, the world would be the real loser. Which brought the boys to the conclusion that the only viable choice was to eliminate their only target: Destroy the Hellmouth... before it can be reactivated.

"Ready?" Connor asked a second time.

Lawin smiled. He chanted a set of words which caused three pillars of smoke to erupt in a triangular direction around the area surrounding the Sunnydale sinkhole. The combatants down below were caught unaware by the what was happening and before they could react, the unseen energy blob that was the beginning of a Hellmouth exploded underneath them, killing many the demon within the vicinity and wounding many others.

Nobody was making a Hellmouth in Sunnydale again anytime soon.

Lawin and Connor saw demons turn into bits and pieces of meat but they couldn't stay to revel in their victory. They had to follow Tommy Bolt, follow him so they can get a lead to the Clutha. They followed him discreetly, killing a few hellhounds that stood in their way by a sword, a spell or a crushing blow with brute strength. They stopped, however, when Tommy was stopped by a guy with a pistol.

"What in the…?" Lawin asked.



Connor squinted and tensed his hearing to the exchange below. "He's British."

"Watcher," they said in unison.

Aidan saw the pillar of smoke. He saw the demons killing each other down there. He didn't know what was happening, but he saw a big clue to the answer running helter skelter towards his direction.

"Hold it," Aidan yelled and flashed out his automatic. Tommy froze. "That's far enough mate, just stay where you are!"

Tommy's eyes suddenly went wild and hysterical, his eyes reddish and fatigued. His bony body shook with savage glee like a wild animal. "You can't stop them! They'll crush you! Yes, ah yes. They'll crush you into little pieces. They'll come you see. Quor'toth will come. Quor'toth! Heeerree's Quor'toth."

"Right. Well, you just come with me mate, and we can talk all about this uh, Quor'toth at a nice safe place, eh? Come on don't be afraid."

"Quor'toth! Marching for the Clutha. Nebadon. Where is the mighty Nebadon! From the Clutha the Horde shall fall."

Aidan didn't know what the manic was talking about but he was sure that demonic corruption was to blame. As he slowly got closer to Tommy, a blast erupted behind him and Aidan flew several yards away from where he was standing.

"Bloody…" Aidan spat a mouthful of blood.

"Heh. Heh. Heh. You're a dead Fuck Fuck." Tommy jumped up and down with savage glee. "Dead Fuck!"

_Flee this place now! The Horde is coming! The agents of the First want you as well! Flee! _Tommy obeyed and scampered off. Aidan tried to aim his pistol but he was too hurt to properly pull the trigger. By the time he was able to drag himself to his feet, Tommy Bolt was gone and was replaced by several demons and Turok Han vampires circling him for the kill.

"Uh, bloody hell!"

"They'll kill him!" Connor yelled as he saw Aidan fall down.

"That's the idea! We have to trail the Kluthu's pawn. The demons will take care of our loose ends." Lawin pointed at the Watcher as he ran, but then he halted as Connor broke off. "Where're you going!"

"Going to save him, Captain Courageous."

Lawin blocked Connor's path. "Let me explain something here. He's a Watcher, ergo a loose end that we don't want to add into our problems. Second, we still have to find Tommy what's his name so we can 

find out what he knows. And third…" Connor pressed forward but he was again blocked. "And third, if word gets to the Watcher's Council about you, me and what I think we're doing then we are beyond the realm of screwed!"

"I don't care. I'm pulling his ass out."

"Connor, I am telling you this for the last time, we need to find the Kluthu's guinea pig before…" Lawin was cut off by something that he saw from the corner of his eye. It may seem impossible but the vampires seemed to fight off the demons. "What in the hell…"

Connor was quicker. "Necromancer. That guy's a necromancer."

Lawin laughed. "Wait 'til Rukash hears about this! Watchers! Using Dead Boys! Ha!"

"It's not funny!"

"No. But the First evil using undead against a necromancer was stupid. That thing must be desperate."

"I don't think they anticipated a necromancer here," Connor said. "Are you going to help or not!"

Lawin sighed. He needed to have Connor's cooperation but even as he thought about it, he knew he was going to regret it. "_Jesus! Madre Maria! _Fine."

Aidan fought off the demons and Turok Hans, but can only to project his powers on one or two beings at a time. He was getting pinned down by another six undead. Together with his manipulated minions they fought a losing battle. He was grabbed from behind by one of the demons and he lost his concentration on the two undead he was controlling.

The pack was about to pounce on him - the demons for his flesh and his blood for the Turok Han. Aidan waited for the killing blow but it never came. He opened his eyes to see two figures cutting a bloody path across the mob.

"Bloody…"

Lawin threw bolts of flaming green energy while Connor preferred to use a short curved dagger, still squeamish with magick. The small mob staggered from the vicious blows being inflicted by the two other guys.

"Connor! Get your Watcher. I'll cover us." Connor obeyed and grabbed Aidan from the ruckus. Aidan complied. It was either these mystery people or the demons.

"What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Not time to explain, just keep running."



Connor helped Aidan climb out of the crater and away from the battle. They eventually made it to a parked convertible. Connor looked back to see some signs of Lawin when he didn't appear Connor tried to leave Aidan to find Lawin.

"Connor!" Lawin came out of nowhere.

"Lawin, I thought you were in trouble a moment there."

"No chance in hell. Let's go?" Connor noticed that Lawin suddenly looked like he was getting a little sick.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. What's up your ass?"

"You look like a bucket of crap." Connor answered as he entered the car.

"Lay off!" Lawin answered as he jumped in the back.

"Hey!" Aidan, who was dirtied and bruised, called out. The two just looked at him with amused looks. "Will somebody tell me what in God's sacred earth is going on?"

"No," Connor said nonchalantly. The two then got into the convertible and disappeared. When the two disappeared Aidan took out his cell phone and called the only person he knew in America who wasn't likely to yell at him for doing something stupid.

It was already noon time when Ashley found Aidan.

"Aidan?" Ashley asked incredulously at her Watcher's mangled state. Aidan looked like he was mauled by wild animals. They were standing outside a small drive-through café, somewhere near the ruins of what was once Sunnydale.

"No time to explain now. Trouble is in that place."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sunnydale! It may not be the Hellmouth but there is definitely something wrong in that place. I got the bloody bruises to prove it!"

"Hey kid, you okay?" A passing waitress asked concern.

"Oh perfectly." Aidan then flashed a grin that included bloodied gums. The waitress turned away in fear.

"We gotta get you out of here. Glessing's kinda pissed that you went AWOL."



"Of course he is… Ah!" Aidan grabbed his sides were he was slashed. The wound was healing unnaturally fast.

Ashley led Aidan to her car where he could rest.

"Aren't you a little young to drive?"

"I _look _old enough to drive," Ashley smiled a bit. "So, where we off to?"

"A place just outside LA. I'll guide you there." Aidan winced at another pain in his sides. "I need to patch myself up before I meet up with Glessing. Hopefully, he'll buy my alibi." He then looked at his Slayer with a measuring gaze.

Ashley understood. "I won't rat you out to Glessing."

"Ashley, if things start looking bad for you I promise to take full responsibility for all that's happened. Hell, you didn't even have to come here."

"I said its okay. I kinda get what you're trying to do."

"And that is?"

"The right thing… even when you're doubting yourself about what that right thing is."

Aidan smiled at the insight. She was smarter than she looked, especially for a Yank.

Their intended destination turned out to be a motel. Aidan checked himself and Ashley into a room. The attendant gave Aidan a knowing wink but he just scowled back.

The TV was on as Aidan cleaned himself up and Ashley was standing guard near the door. No one was watching the show. They just needed it to keep possible spies from hearing anything - Aidan's paranoia. Besides, the show was a rerun from a previous night.

"I fight for my redemption in the gritty LA megalopolis. In this darkened world full of serial killers, stalkers and illegal immigrants, I have chosen to fight the good fight, forever pitting myself against the darkness of… uh… dark badness in a quest to redeem my past. I am Marco Talbot. I am the Serial Killer Killer."

"Hey weren't you that serial killer that used to eat people's brains?"

"Yes. But now I'm a good guy."

"Yeah, right."

"I am! I kill serial killers now. I kill them to redeem my evil ass! See!" Shows a severed head. "You want me to eat their brains? I'll do it!"

"Ooookay." Gunshots



"Ashley."

"Yes?"

"Turn off the Telly will you." The Slayer obeyed. "You didn't have to stay. I just want to get myself back together before I get back to the hotel and face Glessing again." Aidan went into the bathroom and took off his shirt to examine the wounds he had taken.

"You look like you got into a war zone. Believe me, I just want to make sure you don't end up losing consciousness and falling into a coma." Ashley said from the bedroom.

Aidan examined his wounds and saw the expected black colored veins branching out over the bruises and cuts, healing them almost instantaneously. "No danger of that, I assure you."

"Hey, how come you didn't just go to a hospital than come here? I mean you could always come up with an alibi or something. Skateboarding. Car accident. Ex girlfriend." Ashley heard her Watcher laugh from the bathroom. She was about to say something further when she caught Aidan emerge from the bathroom with only his pants on, she blushed. Her Watcher, personality aside, was very comely. To hide her reaction, she was going to say something about getting back to the other Watchers after this but before she could say it, she caught something strange about the wounds. At first she was nonchalant but when she got a closer look at her Watcher… "What in God's name…"

Aidan's wounds had completely healed. "Hand me my jacket will you?"

Ashley handed Aidan's jacket. He took out a bottle of painkillers and popped a tablet into his mouth. "How," was all Ashley could mutter.

"What else? Magick."

"Yeah but… Well, I guess… Oh because you're a necromancer, right?"

"Ashley, sit down." She started to stammer but he cut her off. "Sit down!" She obeyed.

"I've told this to very few people Ash. And considering what you've just done for me I take it on my part to give a little something back." Ashley could only nod her head.

Aidan took a deep breath and sighed. "When I was very young, I was diagnosed to have had several bad things in my body." Ashley gasped at the confession. "My grandfather, the late Quentin Traverse, did everything humanly possible. Doctors. Treatments. Hospitals." Aidan chuckled. "All I seem to recall from my early childhood was the view from a hospital bed and the kiss of a hypodermic needle, the smell of medicine wafting in the air – sterile death. But there was no treatment. None medical anyway. So my grandfather sought other means."

"Mystical," Ashley noted. Aidan nodded.

"White magic was healing magic. But unfortunately it can't save you if you're destined to die. My grandfather…" Aidan's voice trembled and he sighed. "I guess you could say he did what any 

grandparent would do. He gave up everything, including his soul, for his only grandson. He went to the Watcher's archives and got some very disturbing books. Mostly necromancy."

Aidan then took out a small stiletto and cut his wrist, drawing a little blood. Dark black veins appeared simultaneously and seemed to heal the wound rapidly. Ashley gasped. Aidan looked at her with sad, tired eyes. "If you can't heal life, then you stop death. In a sense, that's what my grandfather did for me. All he ever wanted to do was to keep me from dying then. Well keep me from dying until someone could devise a cure for me. But…Ah, we both knew that it was a lie he kept telling himself. The truth of the matter is, I'm really a dead man walking around on borrowed time. Most of the Watchers know about this, the old ones anyway. But they never talk about these kinds of things. Things that would shed some light on their hypocrisy."

Ashley was scared at the nonchalant, suicidal outburst and so she tried to change the subject. "What about the vampires… You could control them and… and…"

Aidan raised a hand to still her fears. "I'm coming to that. The nature of my treatment involved the grafting of several demonic parts into my body. It isn't pretty. That's why I didn't want to go to a hospital. They might see something that would give them nightmares." He then gesture to the veins, now disappearing.

"These organs could heal any wound inflicted on my body: poison, wound, perforation, burns, you name it. I'm basically safe as long as I don't suppress the demon parts within me. I suppress them, I'm dead." He laughed sadistically. "Suicide has taken a whole new, deeper meaning for me." Aidan looked down to the bottle of painkillers. "Unfortunately… the healing thing also hurts to bloody hell. I'm technically in good physical shape, excellent even. But when you're in here." He tapped his head. "You'll want to get out, run away from the nightmare. And so I was forced to study necromancy, basically to control the things beneath my skin. Mostly to block out the pain that keeps me from losing my pulse. After all, necromancy is the thing that's keeping me alive but it's also the thing that's keeping me half past dead. The Watchers know about this and out of respect for my dead grandfather they're willing to continue to try and find a cure. But they also know the breach in ethics that I represent." He sighed then looked out towards the horizon. "We should go home now, back to the hotel. It's been a long day."

Ashley didn't say anything. She just obeyed, afraid about what else she might not know of this strange guy they sent to watch over her.


	16. Chapter 16: Fallout

**Chapter 16: Fallout**

Back in LA, Tommy Bolt was huddled in some dark alley. He had failed the voices miserably. "I'm sorry," he muttered to himself as he rocked back and forth. "I'm sorry. I failed."

"It's okay Tommy," a male voice answered.

Tommy looked up. His eyes were happy at the reprieve.

"You've managed to open a small crack, dear boy. Small, but it was enough."

"You're… You're not angry?"

"No, not really. A bit annoyed that someone else knew about our plans, but otherwise it's okay. I'm finally leaving my prison and now I'm coming here. You've given me the leverage I need, dear boy. Though, it's not as big a leverage as I had hoped. You've done well Tommy."

"Really? But what about the others?"

"They don't matter," the voice answered. Tommy made a twisted smile then he screamed a tortured cry. No one heard him. There were no stray people, not even dogs or hobos, nearby. A light flashed out of nowhere and a guy that looked like a hobo emerged where Tommy was a moment ago.

"Yes. Really," The hobo said then as if talking to himself... "Ah, What a pleasant world. It would be nice to see how the upcoming conflict will turn out. It's been too long Connor, far too long."

The hobo then turned his rags into an expensive business suit. He strolled through the darkened alley, past trash bins and broken bottles, with each step there seemed to follow a dark cloud gathering thick and ominously. The creature smiled. His army was strong. The plague was in place and the other Kluthu were not aware of the secret arrangements he had made to carry out his plans, secret arrangements that would allow him to get his ultimate prize: Connor.

"Do they suspect anything?" A voice asked from the darkness. "About how you may have set up the incident in Sunnydale?"

"'Course they suspect something." The demon that had been a hobo replied. "They're demons. Suspicion is in their nature."

"I certainly hope that they will not cause any complications of their own."

"They won't," the Kluthu said. "I promise it. And, even if they figure out about our little deal… they won't be in a position to do anything about it."

"Just as we planned it, Marastoth," the voice answered.



"Just as we planned it," the Kluthu, Marastoth agreed. Prior to the planned invasion, Marastoth had made certain arrangements with certain vested interests "…but nonetheless, something is really bothering me… What was the necromancer doing there? He wasn't supposed to be a part of the plan…."

"I know your concerns Mar, but I assure you that it was nothing more but a coinci…"

"Don't," Marastoth voice rumbled with a demonic sounding pitch, "play with me. The Watchers know about the Horde. They know about me. Someone, or something has given them that information. It better not be you, Malachi!"

Malachi stepped out of the shadows to face the Kluthu. "Don't threaten me like that demon. You don't scare me. And in case you forget, we are partners! I am not one of your lapdogs. You bite and I will make you regret it." Malachi looked Marastoth squarely in the eye.

Despite himself, Marastoth flinched. He had no doubts that he could squish this pathetic little mentalist, but he knew also that he would severely bleed in the process. "You need to find out who's screwing with us."

"Don't worry I will."

"Good. Start with Connor."

Malachi guffawed. "That puppy? He may be powerful! He may be dangerous, but he's hardly that smart."

"Don't underestimate him. That's what he wants you to think. The little chutzpah is more cunning than you think."

"Chutzpah?"

The Kluthu rolled the eyes of his human façade. "I'm doing good PR, okay? Don't bust my chops. How do you think he managed to survive in, and escape, from Quor'toth, hmmm?"

"Pfft! Whatever. I need to go. You need to make sure that your two friends don't suspect that we're in cahoots."

"Cahoots? That's what we are now eh? Accomplices?" Marastoth sneered. "Tell me, do the powers even know that you're working with us?"

Malachi turned back to Marastoth just as he was beginning to walk away. "They know, but they're not making any moves of stopping us at the moment."

Marastoth was surprised. "They know!?" He snapped. "What do you mean they know!"

"Because I told them." Marastoth was about to say something but Malachi cut him off. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. They may disapprove of my methods, but I can assure you that the people upstairs will not stand in our way."



"And why is that, Pray tell?"

"Mutual interests." Malachi said with a Cheshire grin. "They want Connor taken care of. The rewards are enormous for them, and the only risk is with us"

"With you, you mean." Marastoth tilted his head backward arrogantly. "I've always found you intriguing – always doing the dirty work of the… _pure ones_ up there." Marastoth pointed upwards.

Malachi ignored the barb and continued with what he had to say. "Don't worry about the powers. That's my job, and I'll also make sure the Scion and our dear sweet Connor keep running around in circles. You just make sure that Vorathon and your _colleagues _stay out of the way. "

"Don't worry about my brother and sister, they will not interfere. As for Vorathon's rabble…" Marastoth chuckled. "They're a joke compared to my legions."

"Good." Malachi said wryly. "Don't bother calling me. I'll be busy."

"So will I," responded the Kluthu demon god. "And while you're at it, find out who tipped off the Watcher."

"The First. Vorathon. The Ancients. It could be anyone."

The two departed from the alley in separate directions, and darkness followed in their wake.

"Hello. William?"

"Oh, Hello Rupert. My, this is a surprise. To what do I owe the honor?"

"Oh, Enough of that, William. You're too much of a flatterer."

"Forgive me, Mister Giles. I believe I forgot my manners." The two chuckled respectfully.

Then Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, uh., right. I just called to check in on Aidan. How is the lad?" Giles could hear Glessing sigh on the other end.

"He's doing his work most… industriously." When Aidan came back from his little escapade from Sunnydale, Glessing made it a point to interrogate him… and then yell at him in a most Olympian manner… and yell at him again. Right now, Aidan Traverse was confined to the building until further notice.

"William." Giles' voice was annoyed.

"To be honest old boy… He is doing rather well considering the circumstances and uh… what I mean is… Well it's uh… You see… The lad's a live dynamite Rupert! He has a near suicidal disregard for personal safety and… " Glessing was going to say something courteous but he could not stop the anger in his voice so he just kept quiet.



"Oh. Well." Giles wasn't sure at how to act at the response. "Who's his new Slayer?"

"Townes. Ashley Townes. But I'm considering that Aidan be transferred to more research oriented duties."

Giles ignored the last part because he was trying to find the file on his desk about Ashley Townes. "Toland. Tong. Uh, here we are: Townes. Born in California … An optimistic personality… Blonde Hair… She's barely sixteen!"

"Uh yes," Glessing was a bit flushed at being reprimanded.

"Aidan is barely is a novice. He's twenty. Do you remember what happens when a twenty year old Watcher is assigned to an emotionally immature Slayer?" Glessing rubbed his temple at the sudden migraine he knew was coming. "I expected that he be given a more experienced assignment. Why did you give him someone who's barely had exposure in the field!"

"We're understaffed here Giles. We'll use whatever comes along. The crisis has us all in a knot. Besides, I believe that it was about time that Aidan deal with someone less inclined to be… you know."

"Oh for God sake William! That's no excuse for you to feel paranoid about his sex life! We can't afford to! I've been dealing with these teenagers all my life and I will tell you this! You can't keep them on a strict regimen. Believe me, I've tried."

"To be honest Rupert, I feel a tremendous amount of anxiety over these new Watchers. All of them are so… young."

Giles smiled a bit on the other line. "They're all we've got William. Ever since that incident with the First we have had no choice but to bring in all the Watchers in training and give them an early graduation."

Glessing sighed. "I know. I know. I just wish that Aidan would be more pliable. God knows we already have enough problems as it is."

"William, listen to me. We can't always have a Quentin Traverse. Sometimes we get boys like Aidan, boys that are willing to get down on the mud and do the necessary things, as they say. People like Aidan pay off in the end. Look at how I turned out." Glessing chuckled. "At least try to give him a chance William. Don't put him into too many hard situations, just keep him where he's needed. That's all I ask."

"Then you shouldn't be worrying about that Rupert I'm transferring him to a research department."

The mention of a desk job pointed Giles to a single conclusion. "What did he do this time?" Giles sighed.

Glessing was going to make some tailored response but the un-British outburst just managed to get out on its own. "The boy led Ashley to a high risk area. He makes up his own routes on where and when to patrol. He doesn't follow procedure. He won't stop obsessing about the Hellmouth being reactivated. And…"

"The Hellmouth? In California ? In Sunnydale?"



"Yes."

"Why do you think that this is so?"

"He found some maps from some demons. He thinks they're trying something."

"Has it been examined?"

"Yes."

"By who?"

"Our research team here. Mostly by Malcolm Ingram.'"

"Ah yes, Malcolm. How is the lad?"

"Doing a lot better than his friend, I'll tell you that. Aidan keeps going in and out of duty without notifying me."

Giles smiled at the thought of the new breed of Watchers now working around the clock. Ever since the destruction of the original Council, the new generation of Watchers were rushed through training to accommodate a whole new world inhabited by an army of Slayers. But more than the possibilities was the diversity of personalities. For example: The studious Malcolm and the rebel, Aidan. "You'll have to learn to deal with someone like him, William. They're the new blood and all that. Look, Aidan's a good lad and I agree with your methods. I'll give him a call to give him a little talk. But I want the desk job to be temporary. Do you understand, William? The boy has a lot of redeeming talents, his fatalistic nature aside. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Did he find anything of value?"

"What?"

"In the former Hellmouth? He went there didn't he?"

"He found some demons hiding in the place?"

"Demons?"

"Yes. Apparently, the demonic activity in the area is still hot after all this time."

"Have you sent someone to check?"

Glessing wanted to say that it was a waste of time but he shut his mouth. "No… Sir."

"Put someone on it William, not Aidan though. This might be worth something to look at."

"Yes, sir. Consider it done." Glessing rubbed his temples. Malcolm would be his guy.



"Good. As for Aidan, I'll talk to him. He's just having a hard time adapting to America , that's all. I certainly did."

Glessing was going to say something but he kept his peace but suddenly Giles became quiet which Glessing understood as that taboo topic.

"Does anybody know?" Giles continued conspiratorially.

"About Aidan?"

"Yes."

"Malcolm and Ashley and me I believe. But there are a lot of rumors going around. Most think he's simply emotionally unstable, thank God. Gossip is endemic I'm afraid."

Giles sighed some more. "How is he dealing with it?"

"He's surprisingly unconcerned about that."

"Well that's certainly an improvement."

"Yes, so Aidan aside, how're thing up there?"

"Not good William. Not good." Giles' voice was suddenly heavy. "I've been thinking about our situation lately. It's getting _tenuous_. Do you understand me?"

"Anything to do with what happened to those Slayers from Santa Ana ?"

"Yes."

"They're okay, if that's what you're asking. The survivors I mean. They know that a demon cult is attacking the Slayer line but that is all they seem to know, that's all everyone seems to know."

"Good. Keep it that way. What did Shannon say? What can she tell you about what was happening?"

"Not much Rupert. You'll find everything in the file I sent you. All of them, as well as the other Slayers, don't seem to recall much about what happened in Nevada after their Watchers were killed."

Giles sighed into the phone. "I'm sending people to study what's happening there. Keep me posted and for God's sake keep everything in order. We don't want panic when we don't even know what it is that we're dealing with."

"Yes sir."

"Any new developments on your end."



"We're still researching and coordinating paranormal activity, but tracking down the source of these calamities is very hard - minor tremors here and there, some heavy rainstorms. I'm afraid we've come up with nothing."

"Same here. Well, don't let up. We'll get through this, we always have."

"Yes sir. Would there be anything else?"

"Yes, William, and I want you to do this as soon as possible." Glessing tensed. "I want you to get to Dawn Summers. I fear for her safety."

"Rupert, what's going on…"

"I can't explain right now, William please just get Dawn to safety. Get all of your people ready. We don't know it yet but…." Giles' voice trailed off.

"Rupert."

"It's Buffy and Faith. They've…" Giles' voice was suddenly sorrowful. "It's the plague."

"Oh my God!"

"Yes."

"When?"

"I just heard."

"Any others?"

"No." Giles sighed. "And to add injury, we haven't found the missing Slayers yet… And more seem to be turning up missing."

"Rupert. We should tell them."

"No! No. We can't afford panic. The others agree with me. If this plague is targeting Slayers and if these new demons are targeting us specifically then we need to be sure before we load up the guns."

"I have a bad feeling about this, Rupert."

"We can only do what we can."

"Are you sure we have no leads?"

"No."

"Is there anything I can do?"



"Just do what you're supposed to do, William." Giles sighed heavily again on the other line. "Goodbye, Glessing."

"Goodbye Rupert."

Glessing closed the phone and suddenly felt the burden of hiding so many secrets deep within.

Rukash walked past the shimmering lights of the cavern, followed by a cloaked figure, and stopped only a few paces in front of the Horde General, Vorathon, a large, lizard like demon, standing twelve feet tall. They were on an ancient demonic temple somewhere in California . The whole place was packed by demons that looked like Minotaurs, Chimeras and HalfBeasts, Vorathon's bodyguards.

"The Kluthu are here, my dear General. You failed to stop them at Sunnydale," Rukash said.

Vorathon emerged from the darkness, his large height dwarfing the Ancient. "One of them isssss here. And at thisss rate, we are losssing. Ssstill, we are fortunate that only one of them made it through."

"Which means that we must make a move on the deeper well, now. The more time we waste the closer the prodigals will be in destroying it." Rukash snapped.

"And I sssuppossse the Powersss will sssimply ssstand by and let you go there?"

Rukash guffawed. "You are rather timid for a demon, General. I remember the Horde to be less.… scared."

"Watch your tongue, Rukassshh!"

"Ahhh, dear General. You haven't changed." Rukash laughed at the empty threat.

"The disssassstersss have seized. I have rallied sssome of the demonsss in thisss world. We will sssoon march against rebelsss and their armiesss. We ssshall crusssh their foothold on thisss world and we ssshall reclaim our ssshackled lordsss in the deeper well." Rukash was amused by the rhetoric. "And once that isss done… You may have your landsss back free and peaceful." The lizard seemed to smile.

"Most comforting." But Rukash knew that the Horde was going to betray them. Everything this snake promised was a lie. That would be taken care of though, when the time comes. When the time comes! For now, the Kluthu must be dealt with. And an alliance with the Horde is the only way. "But you must know that there are those that resist the Horde's command."

"The Firssst." Vorathon hissed. "Even that creature cannot ssstand againssst usss! We will march through thisss pathetic world and the Firssst will be our ssslave. It hasss been weakened immensssely!"

"The First's involvement is an unforeseen complication. It's using the plague unleashed by the Kluthu to target the Slayer line, diverting the disease so that it kills our warriors. If the Slayers die then we cannot unleash their true demonic forms. We will be losing a substantial amount of our forces and we will be 

forced to wait for additional reinforcements from the other Horde hell dimensions." The Ancients, under Rukash's guidance, had begun unleashing the demonic nature of the Slayer line, a part of grandiose plan after the activation of the scythe. True power! Girls being turned into demons, the plans of the Ancients in saving humanity: turning humans into their own enemies to fight their enemies.

"Don't try teach me about war craft, human!" Vorathon slithered off his throne. "You mussst deal with thisss problem! How many Ssslayersss do we have now? The onesss that have essscaped the Firssst's plaguesss?"

"Not enough." Rukash answered. "Thankfully, there are still plenty of Slayers to corrupt all over the world."

Vorathon lashed out with his tail. "Not enough!"

"It's not as easy as that! If we turn them all into demons now, we will gain too much attention. You know what will happen next. There are forces in this world that are foolish enough to fight both you and the rebels! And besides, we don't have the scythe!"

"You humansss can be ssso tediousss. What do you sssuggessst!"

Rukash smiled. "There is a dimensional key…"

Vorathon snapped his attention to the ancient. "Glorificusss' toy?"

Rukash smiled. "A simple matter. And once it is being dealt with, we will also kill a few agents of the First, the biggest one of which is working secretly among the Watcher's Council. Which will be fortuitous for us, if we can destroy him along with the Council, it will be a coup de grace to strike a blow against the First and render the Slayer line amenable to being turned into their full…potentials."

"Why can't you do it now?"

"It's not that simple, General! Hyall, our chief expert on the Slayers is gone. So is Anash!"

"The Kluthu?"

"I don't know." Rukash looked perplexed by the thought.

"Do asss you will! Take all the men you need." Vorathon gestured to the massed demons.

"Yes, General… Thank you."

"You are mossst cunning Rukasssh. You will be worthy of being our ssservant." Vorathon then gestured for Rukash to reveal his cloaked companion.

The Ancient bowed and made a gesture. The cloaked person took off her hood to reveal a Slayer underneath, her face twisted with veins, her flesh pale and white, a dark abomination brought to its full completion.



Vorathon laughed. Soon, they would have an army of these Slayers.

"Oh and there is another thing."

Vorathon eyed his ally carefully.

"The First is intervening. We already have disturbing reports about that thing planning something for the… our Slayer line."

"What plansss?"

"We don't know yet. But whatever it is, it's gathering other powerful interests in this world."

"Then we mussst move fassst. The deeper well mussst be reclaimed sssoon!"

Rukash bowed and backed away from the room for the demon was getting restless. Vorathon got out of the shadows and stretched to its full length of almost an entire truck. It was unleashing its frustration all around it, destroying the sparse decorations of the cave/room in complete rage at not being able to slaughter for so long.

Rukash left the caverns quickly, not the least bit secure about weathering the psychopathic tendencies of the choleric demon general. Soon, he emerged out of the caverns of the demonic Hordes and into the badlands somewhere outside Nevada . On a sparse looking Knoll, overlooking the vast empty desert, Rukash waited for his spymaster.

After a quarter hour of waiting, Rukash's patience was rewarded by a familiar voice.

"He's still alive." Urkonn spoke from behind the ancient. "And he's working with the abomination…"

"I already know that!" Rukash turned as the large orange demon lumbered up the knoll. "What else can you tell me, Urkonn?"

"Well, did you know that he and the abomination were the ones who stopped the Kluthu's attempts at recreating the Hellmouth?"

"That was him?" Rukash was incredulous.

"Him and Connor. The powers that be may be involved, but we cannot ascertain anything as of yet. Do you want me to find out?"

"Do it. And make sure you double your efforts in assassinating him. Double the bounty on Lawin's head. He's becoming more of a threat each day… though he may not even know it, he's causing everyone problems."

Urkonn raised his head in doubt, and voiced his concerns. "Wouldn't it be better to bring Lawin into our confidence. It would certainly be more productive than trying to kill him."



Rukash shook his head. "No. Killing him is much cleaner than making him part of our plan. Besides, I doubt that he would be agreeable in joining us." Rukash sighed. "Any news about Ana?"

"No. We suspect that she may be planning something, but we don't know what it is yet thus far."

Rukash swore under his breath. "Redouble your efforts. And, once you find her, kill her, regardless of the costs."

"Of course. Do you want to include Vrill and Boluz in this matter?"

Rukash thought about this for a moment and then gave his response: "No."

"If I may speak candidly, Rukash. Casting aside Vrill and Boluz and the others was - is - a mistake. We need all the allies we can have, and it was capricious to…"

Rukash cut off Urkonn's words with a wave of his hand. "They're cowards, and they cannot be trusted. Let us speak of other things."

Urkonn shrugged nonchalantly and shifted the topic elsewhere. "Very well. Would you like to discuss our new… allies?" Urkonn was talking about Vorathon and the Demonic Horde.

Rukash looked disgusted. "Stupid as ever. They haven't really changed in over 5,000 years. Though they don't know it, Vorathon and his mob are already beaten. We just need to use them against the Kluthu…"

"With the Hellmouth closed, Rukash the Kluthu's invasion may not come to…"

"It will come to pass, Urkonn! I can assure you of that. That fiasco at the Hellmouth was nothing more but a trick. Too many puppeteers around here. Everything's too murky. The powers… the Kluthu…. The First…."

"Us." Urkonn said snidely.

"Us. We must be cunning and manipulative, because that is what survival demands."

"Survival…" Urkonn repeated the words with a bit of agony.

"What other business do we have?"

"The Slayers." The two words were spoken simply but Urkonn's tone spoke of many concerns.

Rukash became quiet, and then finally spoke a small phrase… "They're expendable. Tell the others that we will need to capture the Key soon. We will need her to get more Horde demons from the other dimensions. Now that the Kluthu have arrived we will need to move fast."

Urkonn was visibly perturbed by those words, but he quickly gained his composure, kept his peace and left, leaving Rukash standing alone on the Knoll and quietly pondering the necessities of his actions.



After the meeting with the Kluthu, Malachi hurried home to his new secret sanctum. There, the guardian of his sanctum cast him an annoyed look that said it was disapproving his recent course of action.

"Don't give me that look! You said you'd support me on this venture, and now you're sulking."

_I am not saying anything, _the creature responded telepathically.

Malachi hurried to his secured phone line and dialed a number he kept in his memory. "Hello Connor," Malachi talked into the phone. "How's life treating you?"

"What the hell happened back there, Mal? Where are you? Harry Potter and I tried looking for you, but your place disappeared off the face of Griffith park. It's just an empty lot now."

"I know. I moved it." Connor was about to say something but he was cut off. "Shut up Connor and listen to me." Malachi paused to make the lie more believable. "We failed in the Hellmouth."

"What do you mean?"

"The plague is still in place. One of the Kluthu managed to get through."

"What?!" On the other line, Lawin's voice was hysterically asking questions.

"Shut up, dude!" Connor told the sorcerer, then back to the phone. "What do you mean one of them got through?"

"One of them got through. I don't know how, but that's what happened."Connor became silent on the other line. "Hello? You still there?"

"Yeah…. Uh… Yeah, I'm still here. What do you mean… Uh forget it! How? But we tried to stop them from opening another Hellmouth! That was supposed to fix things with the Kluthu's exodus."

"It wouldn't have _fixed_ it, Connor," Malachi responded. "Delayed, yes. Rectify, no."

Connor cursed on the other line, and he told Lawin about what was going on, and the Scion took the phone from Connor. "Maly, it's Lawin. What do you mean we fouled up? I set up the spell you gave us. I followed your instructions to the letter, and you're telling me it got screwed?"

"Something happened. That's all I can tell you. There were too many factors going on in that place. We should be happy that we got as far as we did. Put Connor back on, De La Vega." The lies came easily to Malachi's lips. He had been doing this kind of cloak and dagger business for a long good while now, and he had to be careful if he intended to carry out his plans.

"Yeah?" Connor said as he took the phone. "So what now?"

"We lay low. One of the Kluthu may have arrived but they're still too weak. We'll let them and the Horde fight it out for now."



"And the Council and the Slayers? One of their boys was there."

"I know about that. I'm investigating how that happened as we speak." It was the truth this time. "I can't stay long on this line. Those people in Iowa are always listening."

" Iowa ?"

"Yeah, Iowa . Whole place is infested with psychics and spies. Gotta go. See you guys later." Connor was about to say something but the phone clicked close.

"Son of a Bitch!" Connor snapped. He put back his cell phone into his pocket and looked around at the small alley in LA that they had hidden in. "He hung up on me. I bet the…" Connor noticed that Lawin was sitting on the sidewalk, looking a bit haggard. "Hey, you okay?"

Lawin didn't respond. He just sat on the sidewalk, near the alley, with a withdrawn face, muttering to himself.

"You okay?"

"Wha… Uh, Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. The spell just took out a lot from me that's all."

"You better get some rest. Using all that magick can't be good for you," Connor said slyly.

"Uh, here we go again. Another lecture about the evils of magick. Why don't you blow it out of your ass Reilly."

Connor chuckled and smoothed his hair backwards. "I can't help it. I'm a registered Republican. Verbally abusing alternative lifestyle is my job."

Lawin eyed him with a mischievous look. "You're a Republican? Well, that explains a lot of things."

_First demon Irish Catholic Republican President! _The Voice in Lawin's head was laughing hysterically. _My fellow Americans the demonic invasion will begin in five minutes. God bless America . _

"I'm a Conservative and I love my country."

"Yeah, whatever." Lawin shook his head with a smirk on his face. "Republican," the Scion snorted.

"Lawin."

"Yeah?"

"You're nose is bleeding."

"What?" Lawin touched his lips with his index finger and was rewarded with the sight of crimson. "Oh crap." Lawin took out his handkerchief and began to clean his nose.



"The Magick?"

"Yeah," Lawin muttered, as he tipped his head backward. "Damn spell must've been bigger than I thought." Connor looked at him with a mixture of awe and disapproval. "So? Any theories on what went down back there?"

"The spell crapped up, or one of the many demonic interests intervened. Your guess is as good as mine."

"Damn!"

"I'm not sure about this, but I think the reason we failed with in Sunnydale is because we were trying to stop a portal from being created – the second Hellmouth in Sunnydale. I think the Kluthu were trying to tear open a fabric in reality. We were trying to stop a portal, not a tear in the fabric of the big enchilada."

"Quor'toth's a prison dimension?" Lawin looked at Connor with a tinge of wonder.

"Why do you think there are no portals that lead to it?" Connor said with a smirk. "It's because that place is a concentration of bad stuff – the kind that you don't want to let out. They stick all the naughtiest and most dangerous demons there - the universal version of solitary confinement."

"And you know this because?"

"I grew up in solitary."

Lawin regretted that foolish little-boy slip. It had clearly hurt Connor. "Do you think Malachi has something to do with our failure?"

"You already know the answer to that." They both didn't trust Malachi.

"Regardless of whether he's involved or not, he's right. We need to lay low for now. Regroup. Find more info, and plan our next move."

"What about the Watcher?" Lawin asked.

"I don't have time to find out more about him, but it's strange, isn't it - That they sent only one guy without any Slayers to that site?"

Lawin sighed. "Strange indeed."

"I need to visit my family. Check on my dad at the hospital. Straighten out things in Stanford. I need to…" Connor's shoulders sagged and he suddenly looked very old.

Lawin looked at Connor kindly. "You do that, Reilly. I'll give you whatever info I can get… provided you give me yours too."

"Whatever little I can find." Connor agreed. "So? Any idea about what you're going to do next?"



"Me? I still have a lot of problems to think about, and I have no intention of sitting on my ass about it. I'll go try and find more info about the Horde, what they're going to do now that the Kluthu have arrived and what happened to my previous employers. I still can't find any of them. It's like they disappeared off the face of the Earth."

"Do what you want. Just keep me out of it, for now. I need to sort things out with my own life."

"Take care, man."

"You too Mr. Demon Conservative."

"Go to hell. And cut down on the magick."

They shook hands and left in different directions, but they were sure that they will meet each other again.


	17. Chapter 17: The Silence Before the Storm

**Chapter 17: The Silence Before the Storm**

Lawin was sulking in his new safe house. After his recently failed hit, the Scion was careful to select a more secure hideout. This one happened to be located in a small, inconspicuous area deep within LA's inner cities. It wasn't exactly Hollywood Boulevard , but at least he wasn't likely to get his head shot off anytime soon.

For now, everything was nice and quiet. Malachi hadn't called out to him, while Connor had gone back to Stanford to "sort things out". It had been several days since the incident in Sunnydale and of serious events allowed the Scion to return to his own original plots… and coordinate his own next moves.

"What next move!" Lawin cried.

_Indulging in self pity again, I see? _

"Oh shut up! There are two demonic armies on this world – maybe three and you've got nothing better to do than mock me."

_Boy, I'm a voice inside your head. Talking to you – condescendingly or otherwise – is the only thing I can do._

Lawin smashed his palms against the sofa he was sitting on and stormed into the kitchen to get a can of beer. For the past few days he had been a very busy bee. Waiting for further news from Malachi (while at the same time trying to formulate contingency plans in case the so-called servant of the powers betrayed him) Lawin found it proactive to try and find leads into what had happened to Anash; and why the Ancients had stopped communicating with him. Where were Urkonn and Rukash hiding? Did they kill the Ancients that refused to side with them? How long until their next move? How much help had they given the Horde? Who killed Hyall? What were Malachi's real motives? Could Connor Reilly be trusted? How many agents were hunting him at that moment?

It wasn't easy thinking when there were so many issues to think about; and it was even harder to get anything done. Finding a lead to where the Ancients were was next to impossible, sure, but then again Lawin did impossible things.



A few difficult days of searching and a trail of mangled, incinerated demonic bodies awarded the young sorcerer with a cavern full of demons guarding several body bags. When Lawin opened the bags, he found his missing ancients. They weren't breathing but he had found them. There were about a dozen of them and Lawin knew then and there that the Ancients had truly become mad! Whatever pretense he had at ignoring the truth of what he knew was shattered when he found the bodies.

Lawin didn't waste any time thinking about the past. He had to move fast and so he did, Malachi or not. He tracked down the sources of the "minor" catastrophes in and around California and shut them down before they could become active (Every time he failed, though, he saw it in the news: A slight tremor here, a small tornado crushing a few houses there – inexplicable phenomenon, the scientists remarked). He attacked any place he found Horde demons, killing them with energy spells, figuring that Connor should take care of the Kluthu. Yes, Lawin, you stupid fuck! A couple of freak shows are capable of stopping two demonic legions.

Fighting a demonic army wasn't easy, they were very good at hiding (waiting for the signal to attack) and when they were found they turn out be very powerful – at least that was the case with the Horde - the Kluthu demi-god that had broken through had not yet made an appearance.

And as if things weren't bad enough, more than once, Lawin saw corrupted and demonized Slayers patrolling Horde caverns. He didn't like what the implied answers were; and more than that, he hadn't yet defeated a single one of these corrupted Slayers for they either retreated or cause Lawin to retreat. Malachi's words were coming true. Worse than that, he still had no lead as to what had happened to Anash - she could still be alive. It was all too much to hope for.

Lawin was frustrated. Was he serving the powers that be now? What about Anash? What about his quest for the cure for the Scion? Was he betraying all of them and serving them at the same time? Was it really true what the voice in his head, the Scion, was telling him? That he was like his ancestors? A ruthless self-serving maniac who would use everything around him to warrant his own needs. Lawin wanted to disagree. But what was he doing now? He wanted a cure for the Scion regardless of what it would do to everything around him. And Anash? She was simply a tool to gain power with the Ancients. Was that the truth, or just one way of looking at things? The lines that he had thought were clear cut were diluting… and the world was getting murkier and murkier.

He looked down at the ring on his index finger. It bore the family insignia of the sons of Amazarak, a serpent devouring itself through its tail, the oroboros. So far from home, he thought, yet not really far. He wondered wistfully at what was now happening to his twin brother who hated him… or his cousin, Innocencia, one of the most powerful sorceress in the world and even his supposed bride-to-be, Carmen, an aristocratic arranged-marriage courtesy of Lawin's uncle, the Scion before Lawin.

The memories of that distant homeland felt like looking out into a distant window and, as if he willed it to be so, Lawin was suddenly dreaming of the past Scions. It was similar to the Slayer dreams only it was painful and there were voices instead of images and Lawin could feel the destruction that his ancestors had wrought on the world. He felt Amazarak walk over a pile of bodies, the men who had tried to stop him from escaping. He heard the march of barbarians as they were being lead by a "god" that called 

himself the Scion. He dreamt of the conquistadors that set their bloodied boots on the new world. He became his grandfather, the dark mage, who slaughtered all who opposed him. And then he dreamt of his uncle, the one who ruthlessly trained him while his twin brother, Lawin's father watched helplessly, too weak to oppose a powerful sorcerer. He dreamt of them all: The wars and plagues, demons and the tragedies. Lawin suddenly became his uncle and then his uncle before that and then another, leading all the way back to the antiquity of the Zarakite bloodline.

The voices and sounds stopped and then he saw himself. It was shortly after he disobeyed his uncle to kill an innocent girl who had inadvertently stumbled on the secrets of his clan. It was not under pleasant circumstances. The girl ended up dead regardless of Lawin's efforts, his uncle also died (making him Scion instantly). To escape the punishment he knew was forthcoming, Lawin plunged himself into an audacious new dream – to find the Ancients and ask their help to cure the Scion, or as he saw it, his "family curse." His only lead at that time had been to a place in Africa . Lawin took all the money he could grab and jumped ship to the dark continent. What happened to him there was a matter of record.

"So," Urkonn had said. "You wish to have us help you?"

"Or I, help you. I did not come here to speak with you demon! Where are your masters?"

"It's not a simple matter, boy. You have to understand. Amazarak killed some of the members eons ago. Trust is a very delicate thing with them when it comes to _you_."

Lawin smirked. "Let's cut the crap. What do you want me to do to gain that trust?"

Urkonn blinked at the outright bluntness. Audacity was a trait in the Scion bloodline. He laughed and then led Lawin to a dimensional gate. When they stepped through, Lawin found himself in a cave with primitive pictures on the walls. Ignoring the boy's discomfiture, Urkonn told Lawin to restore the soul of the one who was coming to seek him out. He was to administer a series of tests specially designed by the Ancients on this subject, and if he survived, to perform a spell that would restore his soul.

"That's it?"

"Yes, that's it. I trust the spell wouldn't be too hard for you."

"Restoring souls is not exactly a walk in the park, but I think I'll manage."

"Glad to hear it."

"So who's the lucky bastard?"

Urkonn laughed. "You're going into this blind."

Lawin didn't like the response, or the fact that he was also required to transform his features into something demonic and to make sure that whoever it was did not know who the prime movers behind the curtains were. If the task was done, then and only then would the Ancients meet with him.



When Spike appeared in the cave, Lawin wanted to burst out laughing. He knew who he was. He had read his file. Lawin's family had records of very powerful, very dangerous demons.

It seemed simple but to Lawin, this was a trap. This _test _was obviously designed to implicate him with the Ancients. If he was going to do this task, it would mean that he would be in the same boat as the Ancients. He wouldn't be able to cut the umbilical cord so easily. The Ancient's enemies would be his enemies. This was a test for Lawin as much as the one who was seeking the Ancients out – this was a test of commitment.

And Spike? Where was he now? Probably still in Texas . Maybe down south, out the country. It had surprised Lawin, in fact, that the former vamp did not go after his holy grail, one blonde Slayer.

Lawin wanted to gloat at Rukash for choosing Spike. The creature was tenacious, reckless, violent, smart mouthed, vain, brave, obstinate and with no sense of survival but dense enough to carry the day. Spike, not exactly Champion material – but he served his purpose. His personality was too short sighted to work for the greater scheme of things. In the end, the blonde haired Billy Idol wannabe paid off as Champion of the Ancients and their Slayers - Old piss and vinegar over intelligence and subtlety. Too bad that the vampire, however tenacious he may be, was no threat to the darkness of the world… just like the old fools that chose him. And now he was human…

"Let's hope he stays that way," Lawin muttered. "Stupid to compete with the powers on their playing field."

Lawin glanced around the apartment and realized that he had awakened. The Scion was playing tricks with his brain again. He got off from where he had dozed off and walked to the bag that contained some salvage from his last meeting with the Horde demons. The bag held some weapons and a large ornate scroll. The scroll was blank and Lawin knew that activating it would require some heavy magick.

He took the scroll to the kitchen table, rolled his sleeves up and began chanting a series of enchantments to open the damned thing. Whatever message the thing held, the demons that were carrying it were very concerned about its safekeeping. And to make it more interesting they came directly from a big time demon that had recently arrived on this world. A Horde General! Lawin was sure of it. Perhaps this might be a lead to Rukash or… Ana. Perhaps, it's the Horde's next plan against the Kluthu. There were too many possibilities. What was Rukash planning? What was the Horde planning?

The enchantments flared and the scroll began to activate… but not completely, so Lawin added more power. He kept at this process, steadily pouring magick until the barrier enchantments were broken "Ahhhh!" Lawin winced from the throbbing pain in his head.

_Careful. You know what happens when you use your powers too much._

Still activating…

Lawin felt his skull suddenly filled with the voices of the Scions that preceded him; some where shouting in rage, some in agony, some were laughing amidst the cries of their victims and some were crying. 

"Arrggghhhhh!" Lawin fell to the ground clutching his head for almost ten minutes until the effects had worn off.

_I told you so…._

"Shut up!"

Whenever Lawin would use his powers, the Scion would activate. If he used too much, the Scion started to take over, a weakness. Lawin had learned, at a very tender age, to ration his use of magick, a way of thinking that had helped him with his special birthright.

_You can open your eyes now._

Lawin stood up from the floor panting. The pain he experienced was nothing compared to other times when his powers nearly killed him.

"Did it work?"

_See for yourself._

The scroll was wide open. On its surface were a few markings in archaic demon language… but Lawin was not interested in them. It was the thing beneath it that gave him concern: He saw a dimensional energy, Green colored.

_This is bad..._

Lawin agreed. He knew what that energy was.

Twentieth Entry

My son would visit me wearing the clothes of our captors. Red overcoat over a skin fitting leather armor that covered the whole body up to the neck. I was told that it was very comfortable. I for one would prefer the rags that I still wear. There's no telling what treacheries are hidden in those fabrics.

Over the span of- I think around- two years, Steven and I have formulated a secret hand language, one that we use to communicate our plots with each other. Suffice to say, we have not been found out yet which is most fortunate as we have not really made up the details for our escape. All we have now are bits and pieces of ideas.

While we discuss our plans for escape with our hands (most of which consists of turning this city into Sodom and Gomorrah ) I verbally asked Steven about his dealings with the demons, an innocent discussion. During the discussion, the boy would be rude to me, giving the Kluthu the impression that he was being taken in by their foul magicks.



Steven has made a name for himself up there. He has become a hero of some sort. They're calling him the Destroyer! It seems that a number of primitive tribes of demons inhabit a stretch of land beyond this place. They haven't been subjugated and the warlocks want the brutes destroyed. As a test of what Steven had learned, the curs sent him into battle as part of his training.

Steven always managed to kill many and it seems that he was a good general. He killed many of the brutes and took their skins as trophies, which he showed me in our visits. I was proud of him for that but he didn't take the compliment too kindly. I know the reason why and I know that there is very little choice at the moment.

Steven told me a lot about the Kluthu. The warlocks were constantly suspicious of each other, a flaw I was sure he was exploiting and was evident in the fact that they've erected several runes around this world that would keep unwanted eyes from their activities. In addition to these, he told me about their battle tactics. The warlocks had a military society coupled with a quasi religion that revolved around their version of the apocalypse. Steven told me about how their _gods_, three in number, who would lead them on the appointed date against rival demons. I asked him about these demon gods. Steven said that he had never known of them intimately or had seen them at all or even if they are real. All he had gathered was that they were gods, whether they are real or not is yet to be seen. I did not say anything, but what he said troubled me immensely.

After the talk about our captors, Steven showed me something amazing. A book and not just any book it was Plato's Republic and Dante's Paradise . I looked at him with startled eyes. He explained that the warlocks had many books like these. He was learning about our home world as well as the ways of hell. He read the classic works as studiously as his training in the _demon's ways_. We did not like what the possible reasons might be for such books. Were they planning for Steven to return to Earth? And if so, why? We tried to ignore the coming speculation by digressing. There was no point in getting ahead of ourselves.

Steven did his best to calm me by showing me some of his powers by pretending to be boastful. It seems he has mastered certain spells that create clouds of demonic gas, quite poisonous, he told me. Another spell was that of a spiking arc of red lightning that upon contact envelopes the target with a sort of noxious infection then melts its surface. These were very troubling revelations. I suppose the boy wishes me to see what I had forced him into. It is as if to say: _Look what you have done to me!_

In a way, that is true! The pain I have caused him and the pain that I will cause him is indeed diabolical… But I don't care. I look around this place and I know that I truly belong here… for what I have done… and what I _will _do! I should have realized a long time ago, before Quor'toth, that I had gone to hell before I even died.

_When Holtz betrayed me, I lost everything that was ever real and good in my life. _

_When I got my original memories back, all the brightness in this world faded right from under me, love or no love._

_You believe in something real, you believe in something that can give you faith in humanity; and it can so easily end up being a lie._

_Sometimes I wonder how much of these pains I can take before I completely lose every last square inch of my mind._

_Funny, whatever can be given can also be taken away. Love. Happiness. Life and Joy. You won't like thinking about it, but you can easily lose it in the flick of a divine wrist._

A trailer for the upcoming season 3 of Alien Hunter blared on TV _"…One girl in all the universe. She, alone, will hunt down the Evil Portar Aliens. She is the Alien Hunter..."_

"_But… But you're just a girl!"_

"_Correction! A genetically altered, super powered girl!"_

"_Alien Hunter! Now on DVD."_ It was followed by breaking news.

The news reported 3 more cases of those suffering from epidemics – two young girls from Asia , and a guy from the Balkans. It seemed that everyone all over the world was suffering from them. There was no pattern, no signs of infection, no way of figuring out how the disease worked or any sort of cure. It was a worldwide catastrophe that would have been the center of attention had there been no additional earthquakes and tidal waves coming up for another run.

And that was the core of the problem. Everything, however tragic, seemed pretty random. Too many coincidences! You couldn't expect people to believe in a danger that they believe to be a figment of their narrow imaginings.

Humanity had become hollow. Everything had a definition – All had an explanation. Everyone thought they knew everything. But Wikipedia and the Net were oblivious to the vastness of a magnificent and terrifying universe that held countless wonders and terrors.

"You know, Angelus killed his sister." Connor was standing over the broken body of his sister, behind him was his mother and father. LA was a smoking crater, everything burned and empty – like the hollow souls of their now slain inhabitants. He cried deeply as he knelt down, helpless and weak, the voice constant and oppressive. "That's their fate. It's their fate because of you! Because of what you are! In the end you'll kill them… just as Angelus killed his own family. All Hail the Destroyer. You will never find peace. All redemption… is a lie."

"You can't be saved by a lie."

A moment ago the dream was a pleasant flashback when Connor had been only thirteen. Unfortunately he dreamt of both lives and the two worlds slaughtered each other. He remembered the cursed demons 

of Quor'toth destroying everything in its path. He remembered a quiet home full of love and warmth. He learned the makings of dark energies, of power unbound and the limitless mysteries of the eternal void. He learned of hope and love – and the salvation of caring for someone. He felt the first sensations of a lover from a young tomboyish girl by the name of Tracy . He felt the emptiness of following tragic lies.

Laurence Reilly appeared before Connor… But he spoke with Holtz's voice. "I told you a hundreds of times. I told it to you every time we moved. 'I will stop being your father the moment we set foot back into _this_ world.'"

"And I didn't listen." Connor's voice was sad and full regret and hatred. "But that does not change the fact that you betrayed me!"

"Betrayed you! You knew what was really happening all along. You knew that I was going to attempt something and yet you refused to see what was before your very eyes. I know you Steven, you're far too intelligent to be manipulated. The truth is… you wanted to be lied to! You were betrayed because you refused to believe you were being betrayed. You were doing it then… just as you are doing it now." He gestured at all the images of the false memories.

"That is not an excuse! How could you be like that! You were everything decent and good in my life! And you betrayed it all! Did you really care so little for me! Was I just a weapon, to you?"

"I had… a son. I left him in Quor'toth, I told you that before we _left_. Where we are now… Revenge is the only thing I had left!"

Connor turned away in rage. "I wanted to believe… I needed to believe… All I could do was to believe that none of them were lies."

Laurence/Holtz continued. "You knew! You knew! And I warned you! All this happened, because you chose to ignore it. You ignored that I was going to betray you. You ignored that Jasmine was evil! And now you're ignoring the gathering darkness!"

"I'm not!"

"You are! That is, I think, your only weakness Steven, your self-imposed delusions!"

"I'm entitled to find hope!"

"Hope!" Holtz/Laurence spat the word. "Hope! You're looking for an escape…. That's the truth. There's none!"

Connor's face became covered with carapace, red and black energy covered his hands, his eyes burning with demonic energy. He wore the robe of a Kluthu warlock, he stood atop a high cliff and everything under him was either dead, burning or destroyed. Destroyer! Destroyer! Nebadon! Nebadon!

"What are you afraid of?" The voice asked.

Connor didn't answer just stared blankly at the horrid scene.



"Are you scared of accepting your power? Hell itself grovels at your coming… But only if you are willing to go all the way." The figure then gestured at everything, at the destruction. "That is the only escape you'll ever have if you continue down that road."

Connor woke up from his long sleep inside his dorm room in Palo Alto – nothing special, nothing new. He wasn't staying for long though. He just came by to sort things out before returning to LA. He went into the bathroom to wash his face and clear his head. He stared hard at his reflection in front of the bathroom mirror. He saw something dark in his reflection, something that made him sick - and it caused him to vomit. When he recovered, his face twisted into rage and he smashed the mirror out of frustration and fear.

Connor sank to the bathroom floor. His hand wasn't even wounded. His roomy was going to be pissed that he wrecked the mirror. Toughski Shitski.

_I need to get out of here. This place is driving me insane._

Over the past few days, Connor made it a point to get his affairs in order. Jump through all the bureaucratic hoops and square away all the details for his leave of absence. Now that he was fully invested into this _mess, _he had to make the necessary preparations. He talked to all his professors. He called his friends. He called his girlfriends. He cancelled appointments. He canceled schedules. He always tried to resist going back to the darkness, but he knew that it was only a matter of time.

"Hi, this is Connor Reilly…."

"Yeah, you remember me…. I have to run off for awhile. I'll call you."

"I'm sorry I have to bail…"

"It's my dad…

"I need to stay in LA for awhile…"

"Sorry, about that… I promise I'll make it up to you as soon as things get back to normal in my life."

"That's too bad Connor. Will you be coming back next semester?" One of his professors asked him as he began to leave.

"I don't really know – not yet anyway." Connor left and he knew that this life – this lie that isn't – was falling apart. _Will you be coming back? _The professor's words echoed. _Will you be coming back? Will you be coming back, Connor Reilly? _

"Shut up!" Connor snapped to himself. 

When he was first involved in this mess – way back when he was still looking for Angel – he was being half-assed on the whole fight off the end of the world thing. If somehow, the demonic war was stopped, Connor had plans to go back to _this_ life. Now, he wasn't so sure.



"Really? Will I really go back to being just Connor Reilly?" Connor asked himself. There was no answer, or rather there were too many possible answers that none of them mattered anymore. He'd answer that question when it came to him. Until then, he needed to be alert.

Connor grabbed his coat, and went for a walk around Stanford campus, getting a cup of coffee and just walking around. Trying to believe - forcing himself to believe that _this_ was real – not the other place. He met a couple of friends said his _hellos _and kept going to one of the local bulletin boards for any news around the campus, trying to ignore the seething memories of a life that should never have happened. He ignored and ignored and ignored… until it came back, that darkness he ran from.

As he tried to make sense of these sensations, he started feeling disoriented, lost. As if he was back in Quor'toth again. What he saw next nearly caused him to almost faint. Out of his reverie was the sight of something that he thought he would never, ever see again. The clothes were different, the face and form was human but Connor knew what the creature standing in front of him was.

"Hey kiddo." Marastoth said with a smile. "Look at you, all collegey and grown up." The voice was uncharacteristically nice. The Kluthu's face was that of a benign old gentleman – not a businessman, mind you – more like a neat and humble pastor. The hair was slightly gray, and the face kindly.

"Hello, Marastoth," Connor said dryly. "I didn't recognize you without the burning black demonic energy."

"And I couldn't recognize you without your boyish dimples. Where's Holtz?"

"Don't play with me!" Connor snarled. "You know he's dead."

"Yeah, know how he did it too." Marastoth pointed his index finger to his temple. "But I enjoy pushing your buttons, that's all."

Connor did not know why the Kluthu was baiting him, but he was ready for a fight if it came to that. "I heard you came here for the deeper well…"

"And you. I also came for you. Did Malachi give you that little info?"

"Yes, how do you know his name?"

"He's my enemy! All who serve the powers are." The lie came easily. Marastoth looked for signs that Connor saw through the subterfuge – there was none, but Marastoth couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was wrong.

"You've regained your powers." The Kluthu said slyly to disorient Connor.

"You know about the Orlon window, right?" Marastoth nodded with a hint of amusement. "Then you know that it restored a lot more than Angel realized." Connor puckered his lips, as if realizing something. "You arranged that, didn't you? All of it? The Orlon Window. Wolfram and Hart. You were using Vail and the law firm to get to me."



Marastoth smiled in a childish manner, and chuckled. "Guilty as charged." the Kluthu came closer. "But only after Jasmine was removed from the picture. It was a bonus that you went suicidal and your daddy was desperate. It presented us with the perfect leverage to _get you back... _With the help of the senior partners of course."

"You just wouldn't leave me in peace, won't you?"

"We can't kiddo. We told you once that you were our messiah. An abomination, sure! But one guy's monster, is another guy's savior. If not us someone else would be trying to use you to their own ends!" The reference was subtle, but Connor knew the Kluthu was referring to Jasmine.

That struck a nerve. Connor looked around at all the students walking back and forth throughout the campus, trying to think of the damage that would be caused by fighting this thing here in Stanford. He could fight this creature but he knew that he would be outmatched… And even so - there are far too many bystanders.

"Now. Now. Connie. All in due time, yes? For now, I only wish to say hi to an old pupil…" The man leaned closer, his eyes turning black with red pupils. Connor stepped back a pace and did the same with his eyes. It was a sign that they were massing demonic energy, a prelude to violence. "And to tell him that his destiny cannot be stopped… not even by himself."

Connor played it business as usual. "Yeah, I remember the speeches."

"Then you will remember all that we have done for you."

"Done _to_ me. You wanted to create a damned messiah!"

"Oh but you were a messiah… and still are, not exactly to our liking but you can't deny what you are! The potentiality is there – just waiting to come out. Nothing will ever change that not even… those ridiculous lies in your head, or the fact that you've never stopped trying to suppress the enormous amount of dark power within you to the point of having that charlatan, Holtz, lock up all the precious knowledge we've so carefully put into your education."

At the mention of mind and memories, Connor was suddenly afraid that he might lose all his memories.

The Kluthu continued. "Then Angel locked up all your pain and all your darkness with the help of a cheap copy of the entire cast of Seventh Heaven. Hmm. Hmm. Connor, old lad, why is it that you're two fathers… wow that's gay… locked up your memories? I think I'm seeing a pattern. Hmmm?"

"Don't know Mar. Must be my sunny personality."

Marastoth blinked in surprise. "Nice comeback. It's good to see you're finally using your sense of humor."

Connor thought about his parents, and the fear in his face was clear for all to hear.



"Oh don't worry about that, Destroyer. I can assure you that the senior partners will not kill your parents."

Connor was suddenly perplexed. If the Kluthu were in league with Wolfram and Hart then…

Marastoth only smiled. "Oh don't give me that look you know how it is over _there_. Demons like to get together and talk. It just so happens that we've met with the senior partners and well…" Marastoth shrugged.

The Kluthu then frowned. "One way or the other you'll fulfill your potential. And as far as the Reillys are concerned, _we_ figured that you needed the benefit of being socialized to this world. Believe it or not, a lot of people enjoy seeing you so…"

"Tame?"

"Sane."

Connor chuckled a bit, though his mind was racing with plans within plans. The Kluthu figured this out and so decided to make his own point. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"Sure I do." Connor said sarcastically. "I trust you like my dear old dad."

"Mature," Marastoth said deadpan. "Well, you may not believe me Connor but I really don't need to make threats or promises to you. Your memories are safe for now… We taught Vail to create the Orlon Window. The one that was destroyed does not matter. We hold the original… and it will not be touched."

"Unless I cross you?"

"You can't cross us Connor. Whatever happens in this world, in this war, we have already won."

"Not while I'm around."

"Oh, you'll fight us now? I thought you wanted Angel and the Power Puff girls to do that, while you sit back and sulk."

"Don't have much of choice now, Mar. Now, that you're threatening me and everything."

"Threatening you! Bless my testicles no. That brand of diplomacy is fit for lower demons only. You are a part of this. There is nothing that you, I or anyone can do or say anything to change it! Whether you like it or not. Whether they," The Kluthu pointed upwards and then to himself, "like it or not. You will participate in the apocalypse... What you choose to do in it is another matter though…And we are here to help you make the right choices… for the purpose of bringing about a new age for all beings of darkness." The Kluthu smiled suggestively at the crowds. "An interesting point to ponder, don't you think? We are here to help you find yourself."



"Funny. I thought you always said, back in Quor'toth, that I was a unique creature of free will, because of the fact that I'm a paradox. I thought you said that I was free to walk away from anything. "

"Oh, but you can. And yes, you do have freewill, because you are new and unique. But, the thing is Connor. They are not." Marastoth eyed the people around Stanford campus. "And you certainly can't let a psycho like me kill them all can you? And you can only run for so long before you realize that you can't escape the destruction of free will. It will consume everything around you... just as it did before. You'll lose everything!" Marastoth pouted his lips. "And it is only then that you will be prepared to become what you truly are."

"I'll stop it!"

"We're counting on it. Each step you take at this point will only bring you closer to the crucible." Marastoth turned back to the crowd. "You don't live in a vacuum, Connor and freewill - not exercised is no better than slavery." Marastoth leaned closer. "We're here to _free_ you."

"And kill everything while you're at it?" Connor's voice was sly.

"Don't worry. That's not for today."

Connor became tense. He was in a desperate situation. Connor needed a plan to fight back but his mind was refusing to function. It was Quor'toth all over again. The only difference this time was that there was no Holtz or Angel to lean on. He had to stand alone. Connor looked at the demon that helped create the warlock known as the Destroyer. He was grateful that the creature had stopped taunting him. In any case, Marastoth just stood there ready to begin slaughtering all the people around the place or walk away - and only Connor to stop him.

"None of them matter. All that matters is your power. Worry about yourself. Live or die, they won't matter one bit. Oh and before I go," Marastoth reached into his coat. Connor looked around tensely. What was he going to do? Kill everyone here? That was a distinct possibility. The Kluthu have always engaged in mass murder. The man removed his hand to reveal a handkerchief. Connor was greatly relieved. "Do you know where Eva Langoria lives? I'm a fan."

Connor's eyes raised in surprised. "What?"

"Oh never mind!" Marastoth muttered. "Why is it weird if hell gods want to watch TV?" Marastoth then flicked his hand and before Connor could realize what was happening, the Kluthu god ran past everyone in campus with supernatural speed.

Connor was going to run after him but the man in the suit just disappeared amongst the crowd, so instead he opted to run back to his room and try to figure out what to do next. After an hour of brooding, Connor knew that he had to fight. There were no other alternatives. Was he prepared for the sacrifice?



"You can't be saved by a lie," he said to himself. He wasn't sure about that, but he knew that it didn't matter for now.

**UCLA**

Dawn's life had always been a sort of behind the scenes. Now, at college she was feeling all-woman. Buffy, Xander and Willow were still somewhere around the world. And she had friends, college friends who actually have pulses.

"So?" Janice jumped Dawn from behind.

"Good morning Janice," Dawn said deadpan.

"Quit stalling you little slut. How'd it go with Jeff?"

Dawn smiled at her then said: "Perfect gentleman."

"Oh my God! You are so lucky!"

They both started chirping to each other joyously. Dawn loved college. It was a long run from that place called Sunnydale. And for the first time in her life, she felt how she always wanted to feel – like a normal girl with a normal life.

Now, there in UCLA, a freshman with her best friend Janice, a fellow Sunnydalian, she felt that everything was finally going well for her, an escape from the dark past and the shadow of a certain super hero, super hot, blonde.

She felt like a new woman. She was a new woman. No more demons. No more Key. No more Slayers. And as an added bonus: somebody was interested. One Mr. Jeffrey Dwyer, a pre med student, with a cute smile and an even cuter butt.

As she and her best friend from 'Sunnyhell' walked around UCLA campus, Dawn Summers couldn't help but think about how life was so great since that _fateful day _the town got swallowed into oblivion_. _She was studying Literature in UCLA. Her entry to being a Watcher was already set. After years in Rome and traveling all over Europe, Dawn couldn't help but feel ecstatic that life was finally giving her something reminiscent of happiness and contentment, knowing full well the safety and joy of her family and friends.

Xander was in Africa , working with the Watchers and Slayers stationed there in keeping guard over the Hellmouth there and the demons constantly running about in that hostile and seemingly unstable continent. He was still funny Xander, and would constantly call Dawn to warn her about the evils of horny young men trying to have easy sex with anyone who has a vagina… "Like me," he added jokingly.

Willow and Kennedy were still in South America .



Willow was organizing magick training for the Slayers. The Slayers actually looked forward to the training being given to them by the newly formed Council. With basic magick training, their ability to fight and survive would be greatly increased. Some of the younger Slayers even commented that they should now call the Council Hogwarts and Mr. Giles as Dumbledore.

Giles drank an entire bottle of scotch when a large group of teeny Slayers petitioned him to use the name Hogwarts.

Dawn snickered a bit at the fond memories the Watcher would constantly call on her, checking up on what had become of her college life, and if she was following in her sister's mistakes.

As for her sister, Buffy Summers had entered the life she had always wanted. At 24, she was dating a guy who was affiliated with the Council in London , American, not a vampire and very much human. With the Slayers all over the world, Buffy was now in a whole new set of circumstances. She was given special dispensation to act as a part time Slayer now along with Faith, answering her calling only if she was needed to, but otherwise living life happily, leaving the work to the _younguns'._ Dawn was very happy for Buffy. Giles was very happy for Buffy. She was finally in a place she deserved; not exactly heaven, but on Earth, it was a close second. Though, she hadn't been able to contact her for a while, Dawn wasn't troubled and she was very glad that Buffy was finally… happy.

Giles was the only one who seemed busy at the time. The Watcher was coordinating all the Slayers and their Watchers all over the world. It was a staggering task but he had managed it quite thoroughly. Dawn and Giles used to talk all the time but recently the middle aged man was more secretive and noncommittal. Dawn brushed the nagging feeling she had as nothing more but paranoia. Giles was just busy that's all. Apparently, demons have been killing each other exponentially over the past few days and the pattern was beginning to form… Or something like that. She didn't really know the entire news.

"Wha… What?"

"The bulletin board, Dawn. Jesus, will ya look at that? Tsunamis, Earthquakes, Hailstorms and Typhoons all over the world. It's like the apocalypse."

"Just mother nature giving the corporations a little payback." Dawn answered uneasily. The disasters had all occurred within that same month. Was it coincidence or was it mystical in nature? Dawn had asked Giles about it but he said that it was not, even though his voice was hesitant.

Dawn accepted that answer simply. She didn't want to push herself back into that _life_. She was not sure if it was real or if was subconscious, but feelings aside. Dawn was glad she wasn't in the front lines anymore. It made her feel somewhat guilty to think in that manner but nonetheless, she was glad for herself.

The two girls quickly continued to their original destination, taking in a couple cups of coffee along the way.



When they reached Dawn's dorm room, Janice left her there so she could continue with classes. Dawn was good for the rest of the day and besides, she was getting ready for an upcoming party. She had her wardrobe all figured out: A nice black Top with leather pants. She was going to the party in a get up that would give all the boys with hard-ons in a blink of an eye.

She giggled at the thought of what Buffy would say if she saw her now. Or Giles even. Probably give him a heart attack. She sat down and rested for a moment after the long day of classes and then set everything straight for her the party, her clothes, pocket money, a condom (oh Lord let me lose it tonight!) and then to start the preparations with a shower.

No more little girl of Sunnydale. Tonight she was going to be a woman and she was gonna roar.

When Dawn finished her shower a knock came to her door, she turned around to face it just as she was leaving the bathroom. She went for the door wearing only a wet towel on her head and a UCLA logo shirt. "Jeff! You're too early! I told you before that I need a lot of…" She blinked at what she saw on the other side - Two Watchers.

"Ms. Summers."

"Ye… Yes." She was suddenly self-conscious and embarrassed.

"Rupert Giles sent us. We need to go."


	18. Chapter 18: A Conference with My Inner

**Chapter 18: A Conference with My Inner Demon**

"We interrupt this program for some breaking news…," the newscaster said in a formal, yet cheery voice. The news update featured several large tsunamis that recently hit the coasts of Japan and Korea. It also reported increased, but random, cases of typhoons, earthquakes and rainfall all over the globe. In other news channels, there were scattered reports of epidemic cases all over the world, but no fatalities.

"…WHO spokesman stated that…"

"…promised further investigation…"

"…Meteorologists are blaming global warming for the increase of…"

"…a new unknown strain of…"

"…several cases but no fatalities…"

Malachi changed the channel to BBC news, to listen in if the Brits are aware of the Horde's maneuvers near the deeper well.

"… Locals have reported strange alien sightings…"

"…Aye, it had a tail and horns, and… and … it tried to…."

"…This is absolute rubbish. There is nothing wrong in that place. People are getting hysterical over nothing…"

"…The sightings seem to be confined in a small area around…"

"…Further investigation will be conducted to ascertain…"

Certain parts of Albion were being overrun with inexplicable phenomena – rivers filled with blood, appearance of strange alien markings, mass migration of animals from forests and woodlands, and even crop circles – it seemed that the entire place had gone mad.

The news eventually finished and switched back to its regular programming.

"_Alien Hunter, Gortod lost his human Duh Nah. He's evil now."_

"_That's DNA stupid, but he's right. We must kill Gortod before he rallies an army of Portar aliens to destroy the entire human race."_

"_Yeah, kick his ass all the way back to his home world."_

"_But wait! What if we can restore his human DNA?"_

"_Can we do that?"_

"_It's possible. We can put together a series of energy cubes that should be able to do the trick and restore him back into your frigid, self flagellating boyfriend."_

Malachi switched off the TV and went back to his books and maps on a table at the center of the study. He was trying to track the movements of all the factions involved – the Ancients, the demons, the Watchers and the Slayers, who were now slowly being corrupted into becoming minions of the Horde. He took out a calculator and a pencil and began scribbling down numbers, calculating everything with an abacus like precision.

Numerology for mentalists. Every time the visions went offline, it had become standard policy for many of the powers' servants to use other variations of prescience.

The numbers were not very comforting.

It seemed that Vorathon was not as stupid as he had anticipated. The disasters no longer appeared to be serving as artillery – they were now being used as cover for the Horde's attempts to open the deeper well.

_They won't be able to open it so easily_, Malachi thought smugly. After the recent debacle with Illyria , the powers made it a point to seal off the deeper well more _securely _– enchanting its gates and passageways with mystical locks and barriers that were not so easily broken. If Vorathon was to win, he would need to get to his masters – and fast – especially now that one of the Kluthu had gotten through. He was no match for Marastoth.

But Malachi knew that it was only a matter of time before the Horde and their demonic general would be able to breach through the barriers and reach their fallen masters in the well. By that time, everything – absolutely everything – had to be set in place. The Kluthu were right: Vorathon and his rabble were of little threat, but only as long as everything proceeded according to schedule.

But things were not proceeding as planned. Vorathon was expected to launch a full scale attack on human cities and thus expose himself to the retribution of humanity's defenders. Instead, the demon general of the Horde was quiet.

"Quiet is not good," Malachi muttered. It meant that he was planning something else. Rukash's idea? Most likely.

What could he be up to?

With the absence of an answer, Malachi decided to put the whole matter into a compartment. He had miscalculated somewhere… _I just need to know where._



When Malachi met up with the Kluthu, and they had discussed the presence of a mole, Malachi made it top priority to go out and find out who or what was messing with their plans.

The dubious servant of the powers decided to track down the phone calls and maps that had been mysteriously finding their way to the Watcher's Council. He kept following the trail, and as he got closer, Malachi became aware that another higher power was getting involved – trying to screw his plans and that of the Kluthu's.

A break came in the form of a surveillance video which Malachi easily acquired from a nearby convenience store where a very mysterious phone call had been made. Acquiring the video tape was a simple matter, as was wiping the memory of the store's proprietor of the video's existence.

Malachi watched the tape again and again inside his sanctum, trying to find some clue as to who or what had made the phone call – and if said person or thing was related to information leaked to the Council.

After watching the tape the seventh time, Malachi saw something irregular about the video, and decided to look closer at it. "No! It can't be!" Malachi checked the charts and photographs again. "What the hell is that son of a bitch doing here?" Malachi tried to calm his nerves, and thought of what he should do next.

He left his study and headed to another part of his sanctum that held a small pool. The place was carved out of rock, a far cry from the Victorian milieu of his study. Malachi sat near the pool, closed his eyes and opened his mind. After awhile, a voice intruded into the Mentalist's brain.

"What now?" Marastoth's mind responded.

"It's me. I found our enigmatic voice."

"Connor?"

"Sorry to disappoint you. It's not Connor. It's Whistler."

"What? But you said…"

"I suspect he went rogue."

"You went rogue!"

"Well, you have two of us now."

"What does he want?" Marastoth asked.

"I don't know yet but he's certainly not on our side."

Marastoth's demonic visage imposed itself into Malachi's mind. "Fix it! He'll ruin everything!"

"Of course, but we'll need to reassess our plots and strategies."



"Whatever! We'll need to talk about this later. I'm in a serious business meeting."

Malachi broke his mental conduit with the Kluthu, and went back to his study – weighing different reasons as to why Whistler would complicate his delicate plans. _Does he know about my deal with the Kluthu? Did the powers tell him of my plans?_

_It's possible. God dammit,_ Malachi thought. _What is he doing here? This is black ops. This is my show! He isn't supposed to be here! He'll muck everything up._

_Why?_

_I'm betting it's because of Angel… and even Connor. That bastard always had a soft spot for those two. Has he contacted Connor? Damn! I need to make sure that doesn't happen. He might tell him of the plan? I can't let that happen!_

_How to find him? Will he listen to me if I ask him to stop? I don't know, but for now he must be regarded as a threat._

Somewhere far away, in the remote barren deserts that separated Mexico and California , the First and the Kluthu were concluding their _conference_.

Marastoth had just broken his mental link with Malachi.

"Something wrong?" the First asked solicitously. It wore the mask of a small little girl in a simple, plain dress… that was covered in blood. The girl was originally a victim of a car accident moments ago.

"Nothing." Marastoth yawned. "That was Malachi on the _phone_. He and I need to talk. So I hope you'll excuse me if I need to cut this meeting short."

"Oh? Perhaps I can help with your problem."

Marastoth chuckled. "No problem at all." Marastoth snorted. "But, if you really want to help then you will stop the disease that you have inflicted on Laurence Reilly."

"Come on, Mar. We already talked about this. You know I can't do that." The First said in an uncharacteristically small girl voice. They were previously talking about Connor - and about the Kluthu sickness that had infected Laurence Reilly as well.

Marastoth raged at the prime evil for stealing a portion of the plague that was meant to kill Slayers only – Vorathon's potential weapons, if the Horde General ever got hold of the scythe and turned them all into monsters. Killing humans was not part of the agenda, and certainly not Laurence Reilly. The last thing Marastoth wanted was to antagonize Connor, by killing his _father_.

"You stole my plague! My plague! And you're playing with it!"



"Oh, stop it. I'm just messing around. But, I gotta say. You guys over there at Quor'toth sure are creative. Plagues! Why didn't I think of that years ago?

"I dunno. Because you're a fucktard?"

The First ignored the barb. "It's such a pity you and your siblings are too damn headstrong. I could use servants like you."

"Never! Connor will destroy you and he will bring about a new age, an age that you will never be a part of."

The First laughed.

"This is your last warning old one. Remove the plague from Laurence Reilly. Do not mess around with Connor's head. Stay away from his family." Marastoth voice turned dark and demonic – throaty and deep. "Stay away from the messiah!"

The First – the little girl - twirled and then stopped into a curtsy. "No."

Marastoth wiped sweat that formed on his brow. "You can kill Vorathon. You can kill all the Slayers. Hell, destroy this world for all I care. But only after Connor has completed the circle!"

"No."

Marastoth spat out a series of unintelligible words that were part of an archaic demonic language. It may have been bad, because the First blew up into a psychotic rage.

"You dare call me that?" The First snapped.

"Yes! And you know what else?" Marastoth spat another stream of demonic language.

"You wretched little scum!" The First screamed. "I'll tear you apart for all eternity!" At the end of the last word, rocks and debris exploded in all directions. Marastoth was thrown 20 meters to the sky and dropped like a rock to the ground. Upon landing, he was thrown from one end of the desert to another, and his human form was twisted and battered badly like a rag doll.

The Kluthu got up and cleaned his suit, frowning. "That was uncalled for." Marastoth then retaliated by spreading a cloud of demonic smoke and demonic lightning in all directions. Energies – demonic and elemental – fused and twirled as the two entities fought like primordial titans. A two mile wide radius of the desert was destroyed by them – scorched by fire and demonic gas and lighting infused with dark powers.

The combatants were sure that humans had heard them and would soon be arriving to investigate, so they cut their combat short. It could continue once they had this world properly subdued.

"When I get to this world, Prodigal, the first thing I'm killing is the producers of Desperate Housewives and maybe Fox. Then I will destroy you and your siblings!"



"Not unless Connor kills you first."

The First spat in a loud demonic scream. "You will not use that little boy to destroy me, Prodigal! I have already used your own plague to infect Laurence Reilly. It's only a matter of time before I completely shatter your precious messiah, and turn him against you. I will make sure you fail!"

"I won't! And your little plots are meaningless. You failed to kill a mortal girl, along with her army of Slayers. You've failed with two blood rats with souls. You're a failure. It's time you step aside in favor of a real demon." Marastoth laughed out loud. "You're an anachronism. You are nothing."

"I was here first, child. I shall certainly be the last. You will fail."

"No, I won't. And, I'll see you go down hard." Marastoth laughed, and disappeared in a cloud of poisonous energy. The First, too, disappeared in an instant.

**Somewhere inner city LA Bar**

"Uh! You're bloody crazy!" Aidan said as he blew a smoke from his pipe. "He'll lose!"

"Na ah! He'll be the one's who'll be losin'"

"Pah! Agent 47 will…"

"Nope!"

"Agent 47…"

"He won't!"

"Dammit, 'Colm let me finish! Agent 47 will kick Snake's stupid arse any day of the week, because he'll kick his bloody box right from under him!"

Malcolm and Aidan continued arguing, until the drunken banter turned towards their Slayers. At which point, Malcolm had somehow managed to find Aidan's journal.

"Oi! Give that back!" Aidan muttered. His other protestations were drowned out by the news on the TV.

"…Recent unexplained atmospheric changes on the Mexican border today as more unpredictable weather patterns erupted…"

"… It was weird, you know? One moment I was driving all peaceful like and then suddenly, Wham! The desert became alive with thunder storms and fogs…"

"…This video image shows captured scenes of the strange phenomena…."



"…global warming has changed weather patterns around the place. It's only to be expected. It's highly advisable for the local California government to take preventive measures…"

Someone changed the channel to a primetime show.

"_He's an ex Serial Killer fighting to redeem himself from his dark past_," the TV voice narrated.

"_You're…"_

"_Yes…" gunshots_

"_In the dark streets of LA, Marco Talbot fights for his salvation. He is Serial Killer Killer."_ The narration was followed by a lot of gunshots and screaming.

"I said give it back, you bloody Scot."

"Na ah… Remember, other Watchers are entitled to see your _observations_."

"Wanker!"

The young Scotsman just smiled and turned a page. "Let's see here…" Malcolm read a passage of Aidan's journal, blinked in disbelief and smiled. "Nine inches?"

"Urrggghh! Shyte! Don't read that!"

"Nine Inches? Bloody hell! No wonder Glessing's in a fit!" Malcolm laughed heartily, "Oi! Who wants to read Aidan's sodding diary?" Malcolm started waving the journal in the air, and British hands instantly shot up to indicate their interest.

"Give me that!" Aidan grabbed his journal back before anyone could get a look at it.

"Ponce !" Aidan snapped then took out his pipe and started smoking.

"Why do you have to keep smoking that bloody pipe?" Malcolm asked.

"Habit, picked it up from the lads in Zee. You should try it sometimes. A lot better than those bloody awful cigarettes."

"For chrissake. On top of the pain killers, the last thing you should be doing is smoking. Those things will kill you."

"Really?" Aidan flashed mild amusement. Malcolm was among those elite few that knew about certain secrets.

Malcolm flushed in embarrassment. He had forgotten about the symbiote inside of Aidan. To cover his lapse, and to prevent others people in the bar from talking, he laughed "Ah, Aidan, Aidan. I've missed you laddie. Seems like only yesterday we were a couple of thick skulled idiots in the academy." Malcolm then had a thought. "Remember that one time… when we tried to make that love spell so I could get 

Elizabeth Silvers to sleep with me… and instead of that… the whole female body of the academy fell for me instead? Remember that?"

Aidan laughed. "As I recall, the worst part was when old Mrs. Woolsock tried to _molest _you. How old was she again?"

"At that time… I canna remember."

Aidan laughed because Malcolm was visibly lying. Mrs. Woolsock was around sixty one. "Well, if it's any consolation. The punishment has become a repressed memory, I'm afraid, and Grandfather gave us a nice, long, miserable talk about the uses of magick."

"Aye. He looked like a dying sow! Good times. Good times. Who would've thought we'd get shipped to the colonies? Eh? Or finish for that matter." Malcolm then became somber, took a swig and asked: "Want to talk 'bout it."

"About what?"

"You know what."

"Nothing to talk about. Brigid and I weren't getting anywhere… even if she weren't a Slayer and I wasn't a Watcher. I know these things never really work out, 'Colm. I'm not that stupid. I was just stupid enough to get it started in the first place. All you need to do is read the journals of the Watchers who've fallen for their Slayers and they'll tell you the same thing."

"I wasn't talking about Brigid."

"My grandfather?" The other guy nodded, the topic opened up a lot of unwanted avenues. "Don't like to talk about that. Never felt that much for the old man."

"Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. I just needed to ask, is all."

"It's okay. Things are just tense these days."

Malcolm nodded soberly. "Aidan?"

"Yeah?"

"What did Mr. Giles say when he called you?" Aidan winced a bit and smoked some more. "Spit it out man!"

"Ahhhh! Don't do this 'Colm. Old Ripper gave me that damned speech about being a fighter pilot and grocer rubbish. After that he told me to behave and to be patient with myself and grow past all my youthful rebellious shit."

Malcolm laughed nervously a bit. "Well, that's better than last time anyway. The Council's been going to hell since the Scythe debacle. I'm not saying it's old Rupert's fault, but by god! Thousands of Slayers! 

Things are now complicated beyond comprehension. And, it's not just me. The Watcher's Council is falling apart. Nobody wants to say anything, but it's true. Bad circumstances."

"Where are you going with this?" Aidan's brow went down and he took a swig from his glass. "Thinking of leaving the Watcher's Council?"

"Something like that. I never really liked being a Watcher."

"So what? Well, neither do I and I'm not planning to leave. You know you can never have a normal life as long as you knew how dangerous the whole bloody world is."

"Aye, that's true. But I dinna really care for any a' that. All I know now is that I need to make a choice, Aidan. When this crisis is over I'm going to find me a new life. And so should you. I guess what I'm saying is that there's a world out there… beyond this darkness, you know."

Aidan seemed perturbed by what Malcolm said. "You know I couldn't do that 'Colm… not even if I wanted to."

"The symbiote in ye? That's no excuse for trying to avoid life."

"It isn't as easy as that. Until I can find a way to get rid of the diseases in my system, I can't get rid of the symbiote… which means I can't stop studying necromancy…. Which means I can't leave the Council." Aidan let out a long burp. "Voluntarily anyway."

"Aye. That's true. That's true. Sorry if I struck a chord. I just needed to share that." Malcolm nodded his head thoughtfully, yawned and remained quiet until a few more silent minutes passed. He looked at his watch and announced that he was tired and a little tipsy. "Going back to the hotel?"

"No. I just have to think for a while." Aidan thought about what Malcolm said: Life outside the Council. _Can I do it? Can I just walk away knowing that death will always follow? Aidan Traverse, you twit._ Aidan ordered another drink.

"Don't get too drunk, laddie. I'll be seeing you tomorrow." Malcolm stood up from his stool. "Oh and, uh, the questions I asked were for me alone. Don't go brooding yoursel' into my shoes."

The two laughed heartily. Malcolm left and Aidan, two hours later, was staggering back to his place, happy and singing a paroxysm mixture of the British, Canadian and Australian National Anthems and swearing at all the _godrotting Yankees _he met along the way.

Aidan buggered things up in an alley somewhere. He fell down, took out his phone and dialed his contacts. "'Ello. It's me!"

The British voice from the other side responded icily: "You're bloody drunk."

"Tipsy. Buurp. There's a difference."

"Is this line secured?"



"Yes, as far as I can tell… buuurp… but anyways, I called to tell you that you were right. Sunnydale wasn't so dead after all, and whatever Giles knows is connected to those things that were there earlier."

"Things?"

Aidan related everything what happened to him in Sunnydale, including the demons and the two mysterious guys that rescued him.

"That's not good." The British voice answered from the other side. "Clean yourself up Aidan. You shouldn't have called. People may be listening. Now, get yourself together and stay away from any further complications! We'll give you a new mission as soon as we arrive."

The call ended, and Aidan staggered back to the Watcher's HQ.

In jolly old England , inside a secret underground installation, Roger Pryce cursed Aidan for calling in drunk. He rubbed his temples to stem the nausea that comes with working cloak and dagger, and then pressed a button on his intercom.

"Sirk. It's me. You were right. Travers just called me and confirmed our suspicions. Giles knows something, and he's keeping it secret from the rest of the other Watchers and the Slayers."

"Blast it. Stay there Roger. I'll try to reach you as soon as possible."

"Jolly good. Make it quick."

"I will. Shall we be going to California?"

"Yes."

It was nearly midnight. The hallway of the hospital where Laurence was admitted was dank and sterile. It was the color of sad gray and false hopes – of withering sadness against the storm beyond and outside. Colleen was busy talking with the doctors, while Kit was at school.

After the incident with Marastoth, Connor went back to LA as fast as he can. He felt the darkness within his own soul threatening to overwhelm him. He did not like that – the nightmares were slowly becoming real. The darkness had finally found him – not Marastoth, not Quor'toth, not the legions of demons – but the darkness that was his birthright. Holtz protected him from that evil within him by wiping out his memories – likewise with Angel. They were no longer around – they were consumed by their own demons. He was there. Demons were threatening this world. His home and family… His fragile illusions that were his only defense against the nightmare that was his own soul.

Born into darkness to bring darkness.



His brooding was interrupted by a voice very much akin to the memory of a sweet summer's breeze. "Hey Bitch."

Connor turned around and was rewarded with the sight of a beautiful young girl who looked kinda like Avril Lavigne. – taller, spunkier, and looking a bit unstable due to her blue streaked hair and her semi-goth alternative look. "Tracy? Hey, what are you doing here?"

Tracy Chapman frowned. "What do you think, stupid?" she said a bit condescendingly, and yawned.

Connor sighed. "You heard about my dad, huh?"

The two were standing in the middle of the hospital ward – not far from Laurence's room and the nearby chapel.

"Yeah, pretty much. Thought I'd see him. Already did an hour ago. I waited for you."

"You mean to tell me that you traveled all the way from Frisco just to visit…"

"Art school can wait. After the pregnancy scare, I owe it to him to at least to try and visit…and of course, I wanted to visit you."

"Thanks Trace. It means a damn hell lot to me that you're here."

The two found a seat, near the chapel – a place they chose because of the limited silence it afforded them. As the two sat – it was apparent that they were an unusual couple. Connor looked like an innocent college boy, who was soon to be a man. While in contrast, Tracy looked like _one of those girls._

Connor had had a busy day. Before heading to the hospital, he went to his house and attached enchantments on it to prevent demons from entering it. The same was true with Laurence's hospital, and a couple other places that were frequented by his mother and sister. He hated putting the enchantments. It brought a lot of bad memories from a world long forgotten by him; and what was worse was knowing that those enchantments were only helpful against minor demons. There was very little they would do against hellgods or demonic legions.

"You should keep growing that beard," Tracy said through a shy half smile, indicating the small patch of hair on Connor's face. "Make's you look less androgynous." Connor was surprised at the moment. A lot of people had been commenting about the change in him. Connor had indeed changed - inside and out. A lot of his friends had commented that he had become more quiet since that day of the accident. There were times when he brooded, and sulked – not often but it was scary.

He also began to look more… dangerous. He used to have the face and personality of a cherubic angel. Now, that was no longer true. His hair, now trimmed a bit, had taken on dark blondish color – which was unusual because none of the Reilly's had ever been blond. His face, once smooth, now began to take on hard edges. His lips, though still generous, now seem to look like they were ready to curl up into a feral snarl. He was also taller, more filled out and a bit more rough. The faint looking beard took away much 

of the appearance of his youth. He looked fiercer somehow, more feral – no longer the quirky guy that many knew him to be.

Connor had been a gentle soul in his youth, who never fought in his entire life – that was why nobody understood where this new creature came from.

"Yeah, Androgynous is good, but it got really old really fast. Besides, I figured I should quit trying to seduce lesbians. Threesomes were getting boring anyways."

"Oh for chrissake, Connie! That's just lame." She punched him playfully on the arm. "I missed you bitch," she said barely in a whisper.

"Same here Trace. So how's your new Boyfriend?"

"Jack? We broke up."

"Was he cheating?"

"Yeah, college just doesn't have solid guys like you."

Connor smiled, and then teased her: "I know. I'm the best you'll ever have."

"Shut up!" The two made small talk. Mostly about school and stuff exes talk about. Occasionally, they would talk about Laurence, but it was cut short before things get too sensitive.

Connor cared for Tracy very much. She was his _first_ love, after all (actually no, but you get the picture). It all started in the fifth grade. Connor was a geek, and was one of those kids who received the short end of the stick during their childhood.

To make a long story short, Connor was a bully's favorite punching bag, and fifth grade might as well have been a hell dimension for the young Reilly. After the big boys got tired of kicking the crap out him, they decided to hand him over to their sister - one Tracy Chapman - to be tortured. Connor's childhood humiliation was completed in Tracy – he was beaten up by girl, and was forced to call her his "mommy."

Tracy and her "Bitch" continued their "relationship," but by the time junior high came along, things changed. Punches and wet willies were slowly replaced by fondling and subtle touches here and there. Tracy didn't mind _them_, but it made the bullying session more interesting, but they only did it when none of the other bullies were watching. At that time, Connor looked forward to his bully – and his S&M relationship with her.

Wolfram and Hart was truly evil.

By the time they were sophomores, Tracy had ditched the bully persona and took on the Left wing-Vegan-alternative lifestyle, while Connor remained a geek. Eventually, they stopped the bullshitting and officially announced that they were a couple – Tracy and her bitch had become a couple.



Connor looked at Tracy with caring eyes. It might have all been false memories, but he felt for this girl just as he had felt for Cordelia. He remembered his senior year, and the pregnancy scare that had worked out a million times better than that _pregnancy _in his real life. Connor remembered the times that he had walked around pawn shops, trying to pick out a ring to offer to Tracy for her hand in marriage.

He remembered Laurence standing by his son. He remembered times when he and Tracy were lying with each other under a quiet moonlight. He remembered the threats from her father, and the cruel words that were spoken but could never be taken back. But most of all, he remembered the love that had taken him through all the way.

But the pregnancy never happened, and she left for art school a year later, while he went to Stanford. The thought of fathering a child terrified him for he now knew the truth: That he had a trillion hellgods swimming around inside his balls.

_A long time ago, I had a family._

_I had girlfriend._

_It was real. The touch, and warmth, and simple regimens of life… They were real._

But they were all lies now. All of it - Like a dream within a dream. Connor felt a deep white hot hatred at the all the fates and powers and higher beings that have toyed with him… that toyed with his father and all those who tried to be good people.

Damn them for taking it all away from me!

That feeling quickly dissipated into sadness, and wonder. Connor pondered what life for Tracy would have been like had Vail not reshaped her mind… all of their minds.

"What?" Connor was taken aback by something Tracy had said.

"I said, do you want to have sex?"

"Tracy!"

"Prud!"

"I'm not."

"You're a Republican."

"Okay, what gave you the idea that Republicans are prudish!"

Tracy laughed. "Oh God! I'm having an orgasm."

"For chrissake we're in a chapel."



"Sorry. Got a little carried away there." She quieted down, and she became somber.

"Thank you for the silence Ms. Chapman!"

Tracy touched his hand, and looked into his eyes lovingly, but with a hint of mischief. "So, how about we pull out the riding crop and go hop on the wrong end?"

"Tracy! Stop it, Dammit!"

Tracy laughed. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! You're a rare one Connie. They just don't make guys like you anymore. Most guys these days are walking talking penises. But not you! I swear you might easily have been raised by an 18th century puritan."

"Thanks for trying to cheer me up Trace. I really appreciate it, but I think sitting here and talking sounds a lot better for me right now.

"Sure thing bitch." Tracy placed her head on Connor's shoulders, and the touch pleased them both.

"Will you stop calling me that?"

"I'm still your bully, remember?"

"Uggh! Don't remind me about the past." Tracy grinned at him from his shoulders. "I want to talk about something else. Anything special going on in your life?"

"Well, besides the fact that I'm single again. I have an online web comic. I write it and draw it."

"Really? So, you went to art school to make comics. Sweet."

"Shut up, Bitch! You can visit it here." She gave him the web address. "It's about a demon, and vampires, and a princess, and a lawn mower that removes people's memories and rearranges them."

"That's stupid."

"Shut up Connie!"

The two prattled on and on, until they eventually drowsed off in the middle of the hospital. Connor dreamed of the past in a lucid dream. He was the father of a family. Tracy was his wife, and they had two children.

Connor murdered them all. Blood stained his hands as he tore apart their bodies, and he screamed out in pleasure as the world was consumed by demonic armies.

Connor snapped back to reality and realized that it was all a nightmare. Tracy also awoke a second later. Everyone in the hospital was panicking, and several people were running around in panic.

"Wha…What's going on?" Tracy asked. "Oh my God! What are those things?"



Connor looked around to find the source of the problem. He found it in three large Turok Hans, and they were rampaging mercilessly.

"Tracy. Run!"


	19. Chapter 19: Explosive Situations

**Chapter 19: Explosive Situations**

_Do you want to know what I miss most about Quor'toth?_

_It was the clarity. You didn't need to feel anything there._

_You understood the limits of power. You understood what it meant to be alive._

_You fight. You survive. You bleed. You Kill._

_It was pure – sure, it was darkness and evil – but it was pure._

_I miss that clarity – that simplicity. _

_That's gone now - all gone. _

_It has been replaced by ambiguity. _

_I don't know what love means anymore – what truths or lies are. _

_What Good and Evil are, or if they even exist beyond us._

_What it means to be a good person, or who I am – I feel nothing…_

_I'm drowning in my own darkness… _

_Angel's not here. Neither is Holtz._

_This time, I have only myself to rely on. _

The three Turok Han rampaged past the gaping patients, visitors and doctors straight at Connor. The three of them tackled Connor, crashing past benches and medical boxes, destroying doors and numerous hospital equipment and boxes along the way.

Screams began erupting everywhere. Guards were called in, but the only answer to that distress call was a hysterical announcement from the guard post that the guards were brutally torn apart by some mysterious creatures – presumably the same creatures that were currently rampaging around the hospital chapel.

The panic heightened, and people began running around for their lives. Connor was pinned down. The three Turok Hans were going to kill him.

_Unleash it_, a voice implored. _Destroy_ _them with it! Let them behold the glory of your power._



Connor attacked. He punched, kicked and clawed, but the three vampires were too strong even for him. Cornered and Desperate, Connor did the only thing he could do. He summoned the darkness inside of him. At that instant, the three Turok Hans were thrown off of Connor with blasts of red energy and poisonous demonic smoke. Connor got up panting – a steely look in his eyes, hungry for vengeance, his mind consumed by blood lust.

"That. Was. So. Cool." The First was wearing the same little girl outfit it had used earlier with Marastoth. "For a moment there, you totally looked like a Kluthu." The First giggled.

"You sent them?" Connor turned towards the prime evil, and asked in a hoarse voice.

"I just wanted to see a little demonstration of your powers. Is that so wrong?"

Demonic energy coursed through Connor's hands, and he unleashed it at the incorporeal demon before him. The energy spike might have killed other creatures, but on the first, it just passed through without doing any harm at all.

"Tsk. Tsk. I'm just the proctor." The First pointed at the three vampires that were now picking themselves up. "That's your real test. I'll see you when everything's done and finished." The First turned towards the three vampires. "Divide and Conquer. I want to give the great Destroyer a challenge." The First then disappeared.

Connor looked at the three Turok Hans with feral rage. Two of them were already disengaging – going to where it was they were directed to go. Why? The answer was painful to bear: Their other objective was to kill his family… or Tracy . Connor looked at the remaining Turok Han with a slight feral smile. Unlike its companions, it wore Asiatic jewelry and was clothed with fine ornaments. It looked like some monstrous vampire pimp from a horror movie.

Connor's eyes had turned red within black. His blondish hair had taken on a very dark color. His body quaked with the dark energy that flowed inside it. His skin seemed to twitch and move of its own volition as the darkness beneath it flowed with its own consciousness. That power inside of him- that darkness - it was driving him insane; making him lose his humanity, allowing the demon to take over.

"Listen to me Pimp-cula," Connor addressed the snarling demon with a wry smile, "If your hookers ever touch my family… If they ever lay a hand on them… I'll carve them a new one."

The two combatants smashed into each other like a couple of rocks. Punches and kicks were thrown. It looked like that Connor was on the losing end of the conflict, but he was holding his ground quite well… that is until he was thrown clear across the room, grabbed by rough hands and thrown again into another room.

He was unarmed. Luckily, he found a weapon nearby – a scalpel. The vampire leader and Connor fought some more. At first the Turok Han was winning. It slashed Connor viciously, but Connor overpowered his enemy and cut off its fingers with the scalpel.



The Turok Han cried out in pain. Connor smiled and slammed his foot into its face. The cracking sound was very loud. The vampire fell on its knees, trying hard to get back up. Before it had a chance to get up though, Connor grabbed its head from behind and stabbed the scalpel into its throat.

"Listen up _playa_, if they send you to Quor'toth. Tell them Steven sent ya."

With that, Connor grabbed the hilt of the scalpel, pulled it out and proceeded to saw the Turok Han's head in half with it. When the vampire turned into dust, Connor wiped away the blood that had covered his arms and face. He walked out the room and proceeded to trace the second vampire by its scent. Along the way, Connor broke a nearby fire emergency case, and grabbed an axe from it.

After a few minutes of tracking, Connor found the second Turok Han standing just outside Laurence's hospital room. It couldn't enter. The enchantments that Connor applied on the room earlier were blocking the demon from entering. It snarled as it slammed its fists on the invisible wall that was barring its path. Inside, Laurence, Kit and Colleen were huddled together – terrified at the snarling demon. Kit was crying. Colleen was silently praying.

Connor walked up to the Turok Han, the axe from the fire emergency kit hidden behind his back. "This was your mission, right?" Connor asked with a tired voice that was edged with violence. "To kill them? Sorry to disappoint you – but that's not going to happen any time soon."

The vampire lunged at Connor, but it encountered only red poisonous gas. It was temporarily disoriented – scared but its fear was cut short with a solid blow from behind that cut off its head causing dust and ash to explode everywhere.

When the dust and smoke had settled, Connor let his axe fall to the ground.

Inside Laurence's hospital room, Kit continued to cry, Laurence was barely breathing – the Kluthu plague was making life very painful for him. Colleen was the only one to approach Connor.

"It's those things isn't it? Those things that you're trying to hide us from."

"Yes." Connor's rage turned into sorrow in an instant - a deep empty feeling that threatened to drown him. "I'm sorry… for what is happening now."

Colleen touched son's face lovingly. "There's nothing to forgive."

"There's a lot to forgive." Connor's face became steely again. "Stay in the room. There's one more out there."

Colleen obeyed and locked the door behind him. They'd be safe behind the enchantments.

Connor followed the scent of the last Turok Han. He tried to lock unto it, amidst the smell of disinfectants and sterile death. When he found it, the vampire was pinning down Tracy, trying to bite into her neck. They were close to the exit. No one was around. Tracy probably tried to run, but she 

wasn't fast enough. The terrified girl screamed as she fought it off with her nails. Her dress was torn and she was slashed across one cheek.

Connor walked up to the vampire, grabbed it from behind and threw it upwards into the ceiling, and it dropped like a sack of bricks back on the ground, next to him. Tracy fled to a corner, huddling in her fear. The Turok Han instantly stood up and hacked at Connor savagely. The Destroyer simply dodged the impotent attacks, grabbed one flailing hand and infused it with demonic magick. The Turok Han's arm exploded, leaving it kneeling as it desperately tried to piece together the shattered remnants of its limb.

"That's for hurting her." Connor grabbed the Turok Han's head, and looked at the fear in its eyes. "And this is for attacking the people I love!!"

Connor pinned down the Turk Han, and placed a knee on its chest. The demon struggled but Connor pushed it back down with a single punch. Connor grabbed the scalpel he had taken earlier, and proceeded to stab the Turok Han's face and chest with it. Up and Down. Up and Down. Blood sprayed everywhere. The scalpel rose up and down. Connor's face was covered with the Turok Han's blood – His eyes were brimming with demonic energy.

Darkness was consuming him. It was Quor'toth all over again. He felt the demons nearby. He was a demon. He remembered the dark lessons taught to him. _You are a demon. Wield the darkness. It is your birth right._ Up and Down. _The pain in his chest. The blood lust in his mind. Hell is inside you._ Up and Down. _You thought you could leave it behind you? It will always come back to take you. No matter, how far you run; No matter which world you flee to; No matter what lies you hide behind; the darkness will always catch up with you. It's inside you. _Up and Down, like a motor. _You will use it or you will die. You will embrace it or it will destroy everything around you. _Up and Down. _Steven_. Up and Down. _Connor, you're my son and I love you. Connie._ Up and Down. Up and Down. Up and Down… _Connie_! Up and Down!

"Connor!" Tracy's voice pierced the silence like gunfire. Connor was released from his madness, and he looked at her with a blood covered face. Tracy couldn't do anything – couldn't say anything. Everything happened so quickly – too fast. It was a nightmare.

Connor stared down at his hands – his blood covered hands. He looked down at the last Turok Han, long since dust from the punishment it took.

"Well done, Connor. That was very well done indeed." The First appeared in the form of Angel.

"You'll pay for this." Connor muttered at the First.

"Who are you talking to?" Tracy asked through her fear.

"Not in the foreseeable future, boy! I needed to see how far you've gone in your transformation… Considering your little artwork, you're very far along."

"What are you talking about?"



"You know what I'm talking about. I know about Quor'toth, Connor. I know about the destruction you wrought there. I know the power you possess, and how it nearly destroyed you. The more you use your demon powers Connor, the closer you get to the death trap that you had so brilliantly escaped in Quor'toth. But you need to use it Connor. You need to use it to defeat Marastoth, and Vorathon and all the other demons…"

"And You," Connor said slyly.

The First laughed. It was disorienting because Angel never laughed. "Maybe. But, it will take away your humanity first - take away your veneer of impotence - as it nearly did in Quor'toth. Only this time, you won't be able to stop it. The darkness inside you will consume you whole. You already felt it just a moment ago – and it won't be the last time you will feel it. That power – that darkness. It will consume your soul. It will consume your humanity. And when all's been said and done, it'll destroy you! Regardless of what Marastoth may tell you, you are no messiah. You're just a bomb waiting to explode – to kill everything around you – human, demon and higher being. But, I can help you. I can help you become…"

"Not interested."

The First shrugged. "Sit on it. The offer's always open."

"I said not: Not Interested."

The First sighed. "This won't be the last time that we will speak."

"No, it won't." Connor said with resignation.

"Marastoth wants to destroy your family, Connor…"

"So do you." Connor said with mocking irony.

"This? This was just a little fun. I knew you wouldn't let my pets kill your seventh heaven cast. But Marastoth… Oh! Ho!" The First shook its finger. It enjoyed lying and deceit more than it enjoyed pain and suffering. It felt a great amount of elation at deceiving Connor into believing that Marastoth was the instigator of Laurence's disease, when all the while it was the one responsible. "He has already infected your father. You do know what's going to happen to him, right? You've seen it enough times in Quor'toth. His plague. Your father! Your mom and sister." The First pointed at Tracy. "Her. They're next on his list. Marastoth wants to take away your memories. He wants to turn you back into a monster. It's only a matter of time."

Connor looked at the First with contempt. "Duh!"

The First smiled and then disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

When Connor sat silently for a long while, Tracy finally got the nerve to ask him: "Is it over?"

"It has only just begun," Connor said in a hoarse voice, before he turned to look at her.



Connor looked at Tracy with tired eyes. The girl wanted to smile, but she was beaten and bruised - too scared of the madness that had just transpired. He would need to explain a lot of things, and block another mind in the process. It was going to be a long night.

When Lawin knew about the Horde's plans to capture the Key, he went to the only guy… demon he could think of that can help him.

"Kelly!" The Temple was empty and everywhere it seemed that the usual mystical patrons had picked up and gone.

"Slick?"

"Slow night?" Lawin looked the place over and back at Kelly but remained edgy and impatient. "I need to speak with Thorek. I have a very important lead, and I need to investigate it fast."

"He's uh… downstairs doing the usual…" Kelly winced briefly. "uh… doing his thing."

"Kell? Please, I really need to speak with him. Is Thorek here?" Lawin couldn't quite understand why Kelly was a little… off.

"Um, sure... I'll… uh…I'll tell him you're coming. He's been getting a lot of customers lately that… well… He's been very _busy_." Lawin followed Kelly's frightened gaze towards the phone, trying to tell him something… to back off… to be cautious.

The Scion caught on fast. Trouble. "Kell get ready to duck," at that moment, Lawin summoned the Scion and jumped back as demons erupted all over the bar, trying to dog pile him. But he was ready and his attackers had lost the element of surprise.

At that instant, waves of energy flashed everywhere; buying Lawin time to get to cover, help Kelly up and run to find a good position. The two ran to a nearby pile of overturned tables, and furniture.

"What happened?" Lawin asked the frightened girl as they ran from their cover and ran to squeeze through a broken section of the wall and through the safety of the tight steel door of a storage room beyond. Behind them the demons, continued rampage to get at them but already it was too late. Lawin tried to get a bearing on where they were but it was dead end. He had led them to what could very well be their tomb. "Kelly! Kelly!"

"What?" She was disoriented.

"What happened here?"

"They… They attacked. The demons killed a lot of the guys around here… took the bodies outside. They kept asking for you." She was close to sobbing. "They kept… Oh my God, they're getting through." The steel door was beginning to break at the hinges and claws were raking at them through the crack they squeezed through.



The two pressed back tried to get as far away from the crack and the door. "And Thorek?"

"Dead. He cooperated with them, told them everything he knew but they still killed him. They kept me alive because they thought maybe I knew something." The wall was beginning to crumble from the onslaught beyond. "Oh God!"

Lawin pushed Kelly behind him and started chanting with his hands. "You think you can do a fog spell?"

"No problem."

"Good." Lawin smiled and crouched low, positioning himself for a sudden, brutal impact. Kelly intoned a series of spells and the entire storage room was filled with smoke. At that very same moment, Lawin summoned the Scion and threw himself at the door and into the demons beyond it. They were surprised and disoriented. The demons did not expect a fog or their prey to fight back. Lawin maimed many of them with a series of spells that gave him a searing pain in his head.

Words of his training, magical and combat, came into his head: _It's not how hard you can hit your enemy, it's all about exploiting his mistakes._

Lawin took a couple of knives from his coat, and slashed at his enemies. The knives may have had little effect, but Lawin enchanted them with fire – causing them to burn those that they touched. Two demons were already dead, they're wounds covered with small tongues of fire.

_Deceit and cunning, not strength and power, are the Keys to victory._

The sight of their dead comrades caused the attackers to pause, giving Lawin the time he needed to push his attack and cut through his enemies. He kicked and punched a couple of demons from the group. He engulfed one with a fire ball. He cut out the throat of another one. The battle, along with the presence of a fog had caused the attackers to lose their momentum, buying Lawin the time to escape.

It was now or never.

_Always choose maneuver over slaughter. _

Though the effort of fighting and casting spells had severely depleted and weakened him, Lawin was sure that his would be killers were disoriented enough for him to escape. He grabbed Kelly and made a run from the mob of twisting flesh. Hopefully, Lawin thought, the smoke screen Kelly made would buy them enough time to run for it. As the two ran, they left a trail of mangled demonic bodies and piles of flesh.

"Kell!"

"Lawin! I'm here." Lawin took hold of Kelly's hand and they ran to nearest fire exit as fast as they could. When they reached the outside, the glamour beyond flickered as the two young people emerged from a solid brick wall. Lawin pushed a nearby dumpster on the door to hold off their pursuers.

_Oh like that's gonna work!_



"Over here!" Lawin yelled. "My bike is nearby."

"I thought you lost your bike."

"I did."

"Bought a new one?"

"Stole one," Lawin snickered as they got on the two-wheeler.

Kelly rolled her eyes and jumped behind Lawin as he turned on the bike and rode off. When they had gone a safe distance Lawin started talking. "What the hell happened back there?"

"I already told you. They… They killed Thorek. They kept asking questions about you. Mostly: 'Where you were?' 'Who were you talking to?' 'Where do you get your info?' 'How much did you know?' and all that. Thorek didn't know anything, didn't answer anything. They killed him first and they were going to kill me too if you hadn't arrive."

"Yay me." Lawin muttered deadpan.

"Lawin, does this have something to do with the coming war?"

Lawin stole a gaze behind him to see a worried face caked with dried blood. "Yeah, it does."

Kelly dropped her head to Lawin's shoulder, exhausted from her day. "What did you need from Thorek?"

"It's not important."

"Those demons that tore down the Temple seem to think it was pretty damn important. Spit it out dammit!"

Lawin remained quiet for a moment but he thought that she deserved an answer. "Ever heard about the Key?"

"Green energy? Opens dimensional portals? Disappeared years ago." Kelly was a witch that did not play around. She got her intel nice and straight.

"You wrote a book about it?" Lawin said annoyed. Kelly laughed. "I think the Horde wants it."

"Put one and one together and you get…"

"A lot of shit," Lawin muttered to himself as they pulled up to his new safe house.

"That's saying a handful." Kelly thought for a moment, as she and her rescuer got off the vehicle, and she opted for her best judgment. "I should give you this then." Kelly handed over a set of papers, one of which was a letter from Thorek.



"Did you read this?"

"I don't read Pylean." Lawin could.

Lawin stopped his bike near a nondescript location in downtown LA, and went to a nearby lamppost to get a better view. When he scanned the letter he turned deathly pale.

Kelly was quick to pick up. "The Key?"

"You have no idea." Lawin's eyes were riddled with anxiety. He tucked the papers into a bag on top of his bike and threw Kelly a pair of keys as he climbed back on his bike. "This is my new place," he gestured at the aging building next to where they parked. You can crash there for a while until you can get back on your feet or until you're sure you're safe. I'll call you once I can get my act together. If you think there's trouble my cell number's on the fridge."

"You're going?" She seemed disappointed.

"I have to. This is big! And I mean huge! I need some people to look into this fast."

"Well, typical of the hero huh? Rescue the girl then dump her at his dump." The witch was being sarcastic but she was a little tense about being alone, especially seeing as how the guy she used to work for got his head lopped off. "Good luck, Slick."

Lawin sighed "Thanks Kell. I'll try to keep my nose clean." The bike roared to life. "Don't worry. No one knows about this place… well, at least, for now. There's some food in the fridge and you're free to sleep on my bed… if you can stand the smell of it. The sink is busted and there's a TV in the living room… just don't touch my DVDs please. That's kinda personal space stuff."

"You mean your full collection of the Alien Hunter series? For a powerful wizard, you are such a geek!" She smiled as she put a hand on her hip. He stole a new set of collection after his first apartment got turned into a permanent pile of nothing.

"Hey! That was the best show ever!" Lawin yelled before he sped away even though he was wincing from the pain in his head from using too much of the Scion's powers.

_I think she was checking you out. _

"Blow it out!"

Somewhere in LA's main metropolitan area….

Inside an old, abandoned apartment building overlooking the Council's main HQ, Urkonn and a group of mercenary vampires were receiving their orders from a haggard looking messenger – an ancient with the face of weathered oak wood. The messenger was wearing a dark blue robe – and looked like a peacock.



"This is foolish!" Urkonn snapped derisively.

"I am sorry Urkonn, but the orders came from Rukash himself only a few moments ago. Kidnapping Dawn Summers can wait. For now, you and your present cohorts must focus your attention on the enemy inside the Watcher's Council. It is then and only then that our attempt at capturing the Key can be fully secured."

"Urkonn! We did not sign up for this! You said this was going to be a snatch and run." One of the vamps protested.

"Shut up!" Urkonn glared at the messenger. "We're in a perfect position to take the Key now. Dawn Summers is arriving in a few moments. The Watchers and their Slayers will never know what hits them. Why delay it?"

The messenger shook his head. "You're not as smart as Rukash gives you credit for." He then continued with a tone of voice that might have been reserved for little children. "If Dawn Summers is kidnapped, and if there really is an enemy spy amongst the Watchers then that spy will point Buffy Summers and an army of Slayers in our direction, thus making our lives more..."

Urkonn raised a hand to silence the messenger. "Okay! I get it! Do you know which faction the enemy agent works for? The Kluthu? The First? The dozen others that hates our guts, or Vorathon's or those demons in the deeper well?"

"We don't know yet Urkonn. But does it really matter?"

Urkonn looked at the ancient's mocking face. "No."

"Good, then I'll just be on my way." As the Ancient turned to leave, he paused briefly as if suddenly remembering that he left to turn off TV. "By the way, Rukash sent this to cover your advance." The messenger handed Urkonn a small device that looked like plastic explosives.

I don't even know why the bloody hell I'm writing this. I'm likely going to get myself kicked out of the Watcher's Council after my most recent act of hooliganism.

Old Ripper called me today. He gave me a bloody lecture about him wanting to be a fighter pilot once and that my rebellious tendencies are parallel to that. Well, whatever makes the old boy happy. But to say the truth, I hate lectures. I hate them whether they're coming from Ripper, Glessing or my ol' dead granddad. Ah but enough of that.

Today, I've been reassigned… again. This one's a desk job, mostly research – temporary though - Thank God. On the bright side, I believe this job is probably a prelude before I get shipped back to Britain . I can already hear Glessing's computer emailing that request for transfer to London . Oh well, shortest tour of duty, I say. But I'm not really sad about anything. I'm even rather joyous. I never liked being a Watcher 

and now I can be home free to become a desk jockey or fired and an into my lifelong dream of being a convenient store clerk (according to Glessing's threat though I know he wouldn't dare).

I feel somewhat bad for Ashley, though. I think she deserves a special thanks from me… And an apology for messing up a few days of her life. Wait a tic, did I just write that? Bloody hell… Bloody good beer they have here in America .

Aidan "Glessing's a Twit." Traverse

2005

Though most of the older members of the Council were dubious about the practical applications of modern technology, the next generation of Watchers were more responsive to the uses of the PC and the online world in the fight against the darkness. Personal Computers and Macs became popular for many young Watchers in the performance of their duties.

Aidan was no different. The only problem was that only one third of his hard drive contained pertinent information to his work. The rest contained either video games or scantily clad Lara Croft and Chun Li Pictures.

Aidan was currently living inside the Watcher's building. After spending around fifteen to twenty minutes writing some report about the recent paranormal happenings around the world, Aidan got bored and proceeded to play Max Payne over and over again, while smoking his pipe and drinking a bottle of schnapps. After awhile, Aidan got tired looking at Max's constipated features, and since he despised working, Aidan went to his bed to go to sleep – trying very hard, at the same time, not to think of Sirk, Pryce, and the other "old guards" who are, at this moment, plotting their own agendas – agendas that they believe to be in the best interests of the Council – regardless of how unscrupulous their methods may be. Aidan didn't want to serve _them, _but at this stage, he had no choice. He was their pawn.

_Tell Giles about those bastards!_

_No! _

_It's the right thing to do!_

_No, dammit! They have your throat. If you tell Giles, they will know it's you, and they'll drag you down along with them. You are a part of Damocles! Remember that!_

_Yes, I was… but it was grandfather who pushed me to become a part of that. It was not my choice._

"Oh Aidan old boy," he sighed. "You're buggered." He yawned and drowsed off into sleep.

Aidan dreamt that he was in the hospital. He was four years old again, coughing, wheezing and always tired. He walked down the hallway alone, echoes of the cold, silent evening, as oppressive as any static 

noise. The young boy's skin was pale and his head was bald and empty, ravaged by a disease that consumed him from within. He stopped in front of an open door - beyond it, Quentin Traverse. He walked towards his father into the dark room. There was another creature in the room, hiding beneath the shadows. Aidan couldn't tell what it was. It was large and it had the smell of death around it.

"Is G 25 – T2 ready?" Quentin Travers asked some underling.

"Yes, sir."

"Grandfather?" Aidan asked in his little boy voice.

Quentin Traverse looked at his grandson thoughtfully. "Don't be afraid, Aidan. Don't be afraid. You'll be well by this time tomorrow."

Aidan obeyed his grandfather. When he stepped into the darkness of the room he was instantly grabbed by strong hands. They placed him on a table and before he knew it, his entire body was hurting. He could feel himself slipping into numb unconsciousness as powerful energies coursed through his veins.

"There. It's done. The symbiote is fully integrated into his system. Congratulations Quentin old boy. Your grandson will survive his cancer after all."

And then as soon as it started, everything stopped, everything disappeared, lost to the sound of a stampede.

Aidan opened his eyes from the noise. _The past has a way of sneaking up on you,_ he thought. Absently, Aidan brushed his hair to get the feel of it, to assure himself that it was still there and that he wasn't dying of some cancer.

He raced to his feet and fumbled the locks off his door. When the first Watcher's building was blown up a few years back, the new Council made it a point to establish a more efficient security system around their buildings. This new security system was both mystical and technological in nature. Which was why even though the security system could detect threats with mystical wards it's still the electronic alarms that go off.

Aidan heard the noise from one of these alarms.

"What in godrotting hell is going on!" Aidan stepped out of his room with a drowsy face and breath smelling of American beer and gin. Though his face looked like he just got out of bed, he was clothed in a trench coat over a simple white shirt and tie. He looked like a mortician from a bad noir movie. He grabbed one of the running Watchers. "I say… What's going on!"

"It's the building. There's a bomb inside."

"A Bomb!" Aidan let go of the Watcher and saw that all the people in the floor were running for the exit with calm, practiced procedure. "Of all the sodding…" Aidan picked himself up and proceeded with the 

other Watchers but he cut himself short when he heard his cell phone ring. There was message on it. When he read the message, he immediately turned around and ran to the opposite direction. .

"Aidan!" He heard someone yell his name. "For God's sake lad, what the bloody hell are you doing!"

Aidan ignored the yells behind him. There were vampires in the building, the message said. The bomb was just a distraction. They wanted something! Following his senses, Aidan navigated his way through the empty corridors, going to the fourth floor.

His cell phone rang again. "What?"

"Aidan!"

"Ashley? Where are you?"

"I'm… I'm out. There's a bomb in that place."

"I know. Stay where you are you'll be safer there."

"How about you? Are you near the exit?"

"No, I'm not. I'm heading for the fourth floor."

"What!"

"I know what I'm doing Ash. Just… just follow the others. I'll be fine."

"Ai..." Aidan shut off his cell phone. As he kept going he felt a dark presence and followed by crashing sounds of fighting. Aidan pulled out a stake and a dagger and ran hard to find the source. As he ran, he was thrown off his feet by an explosion from somewhere in the second floor of the building, smashing him against a wall. He was already on the fourth floor. He picked himself up, a small trickle of blood ran down from his forehead but he ran faster suddenly aware of flames erupting near the walls of the hotel.

He stopped in front of the files storage area. He placed his ear near the door then gasped in horror. He kicked it down and threw himself against the vampires on the other side. Two vamps fought back but Aidan paralyzed them with necromancy and staked them both. More were coming to fight him.

Aidan appraised his situation. There was a large orange, horned demon in the room in addition to four remaining vampires. Lying sprawled to one side was Malcolm Ingram, conscious but bloodied.

Aidan was in no condition to fight. He was outnumbered. And the building was going to blow up. "What the bloody hell are you!"

The demons ignored Aidan and turned to each other.

"Urkonn, they're coming. We might not get another chance" The orange, horned demon nodded.



The four vampires converged but Aidan stopped them with the use of his powers. "Malcolm on your bloody feet!" He had sent the text message. "Get out of the room now!" The vampires stopped and turned on their orange, horned master, wrestling him. The orange, horned demon yelled a frustrated cry and fought back. While the demons were distracted the two ran out of the room.

"Thanks." Malcolm rasped while Aidan locked the door and barred it with a bookcase. Fire was spreading all over the fourth floor and the two boys were coughing from the fumes. "I expected you sooner."

"Malcolm, what did they want?"

"I… I don't know… They just attacked."

The door was being torn down. Aidan helped his friend on his feet and they staggered to the nearest fire exit. They ran/hobbled past doorways but stopped when they saw a body.

"Glessing!" Malcolm rasped.

"Poor bastard." Aidan concurred. They ran once again, until they reached the fire escape. Down below, Watchers and firemen were converging on the torched building. It was beginning to rain and everything seemed like a twisted ballet.

"You first." Malcolm climbed down the stairs. Aidan was going to follow when he was grabbed from behind and thrown back to flaming debris. Aidan looked to his enemy and saw the orange, horned demon. Malcolm tried to help but Aidan yelled for him to keep going, besides the fires were making rescue impossible.

"Where's the rest of your mates, mate?" Aidan smirked, on his knees, barely able to stand.

Urkonn grabbed Aidan's neck and raised him off the floor. "The Blood drinkers opted to run. So I dusted them rather handily." He then threw Aidan into a hole in the floor. Aidan dropped to the third floor, it cracked and he fell to the second. He looked up to see Urkonn ready to stomp him from way up high so he rolled over and threw himself to another hole in the second floor and into ground level.

As Aidan picked himself up, he felt that half his ribs were broken. Up above, dust debris rained down. Aidan was going to try and escape to nearest fire exit but before he could make his move Urkonn had jumped down to ground level and grabbed him by the shirt and threw him against a wall. "Damn your interference, boy! You're almost as bad as Lawin."

Urkonn began choking Aidan but he let him go once he was satisfied with the pain he had inflicted. "Be thankful Rukash wants no casualties except the pawn." Urkonn screamed. "You can't stop this! Be sure to tell your comrades that. The Slayer line is ours by right. And by the Ancient's blood they will always be ours! There is a traitor among you! Remember it well. Perhaps your pathetic Council will survive the coming destruction." Then Urkonn smashed through a wall and into the rain. Aidan could only watch as Urkonn yelled a parting shot. "Tell your masters that!"



I didn't know what he meant about the Slayers were theirs. I didn't know what he meant by the Ancients or that they only wanted the _pawn_. I did know, however, that I had to go find the answers… even though it was a large, rampaging, orange, horned demon.

If you're reading this journal now, I can't explain why I did what I did that night. All I knew was that there was a path to an answer. That path is a simple choice: follow it or don't. Whatever happened to me since then because of that choice. You, the reader can judge for yourself.

Aidan Traverse

2005

(Not a Formal Entry)

Aidan ran through the rain, his blood dripping, his body healing because of the symbiote within. He ran, following the orange, horned demon, and into the dark, demonic rabbit hole.

"Whoa!" Dawn was surprised to find the Watcher's headquarters in flames. "What happened here?"

"Dawn? Dawn Summers?" Dawn turned around to find Shannon. The two girls hugged each other like long lost sisters.

"What happened here?" Dawn was gaping at the sight of the burning building.

"There was a bomb…"

"What? Again?"

"Yup. Don't know who, though. But thank God it was a small one, it just caused a fire."

"My God." Dawn looked at the burning building. "Is anyone hurt?"

Shannon shook her head. "Bruises here and there but all in all we're okay… barely. So you got called down here, huh?"

"Yeah, what's going on? Is it an apocalypse?" she said sarcastically.

Shannon laughed but she betrayed a worry deep in her heart. "No. The Watchers don't really know. It's a group of demon cults I think, probably connected to all the mess that's been going around for a while. They seem to be fighting a war against each other. That's as far as I can tell but nothing of the apocalypse - type, though I keep having a bad feeling about things." She did not remember her encounter with the demonic Slayers and the terrors she and her companion/survivors escaped from in Nevada . But she could feel it. "We should get out of here. The cops might start asking questions about why so many girls are here. Cause I'm thinking, not good for the Council." Dawn laughed and they left to 

where most of the surviving Watchers were gathering. Shannon was going to escort Dawn to the emergency safe house when a shy, young girl approached them.

"Ashley?"

"Shannon , have you seen Mr. Glessing?"

"No. Ash? Are you Okay?"

"Yeah. I'm okay. Where's Mr. Glessing." She looked like she was about to panic.

"Ash… I don't know. I don't know. Nobody knows what's going on around here."

"Oh my God…"

"What's wrong?"

"It's Aidan… I think he's also trapped in there." They looked at the towering inferno just as a section of it exploded.

Shannon's face was worried. She looked around for Aidan Traverse but could not find him.

"Oh my God!" Ashley screamed as another section exploded. She grabbed her cell phone out and tried calling Aidan. Nothing. "We have to do something!"


	20. Chapter 20: The Beginning of the End

**Chapter 20: ****The Beginning of the End**

Somewhere near the outskirts of LA….

Marastoth took out the crystal from his expensive looking suit. The crystal glowed red with powerful demonic energy. He laughed a bit before touching it to his forehead. The Kluthu then closed his eyes and began to focus his mind to reach out to every human mind in the world.

The Kluthu then sent out a continuous stream of ideas. Those ideas contained darkness within them, and they flowed into countless human minds all over the world. The crystal acted as an amplifier – a sort of radar that broadcasted Marastoth's twisted thoughts.

When they entered a human mind, the ideas would take on shape; and with the use of the evil and the darkness that can be found inside many human souls, they also took on their own consciousness – alive and fully aware. Given time, they would manifest themselves – and then they would spring out of humanity's mind like parasites that have had their fill of their hosts.

Maratoth hummed silently to himself, enjoying the silent corruption that he was spreading throughout the world. As the intensity of his thoughts became more powerful, the fabric of reality began to fall apart. The amount of power being unleashed was causing the earth itself to rebel, thus creating massive tremors, and unleashing powerful winds.

The Kluthu simply shrugged it off.

"It's begun. Young messiah," Marastoth said through his sardonic smile, "you thought to run from your power. You thought to run from creation itself. But you have only made it stronger!" Marastoth laughed a bit more… "Because your dads were a couple of douche bags! And, you're an overgrown prude!" The earthquake continued. "Each one of us is inevitable! Do you hear me, Connor? You can't stop this! You Will _Become!_"

After the "incident" with the Council's LA HQ, Urkonn decided to cut his losses and get as far away from downtown LA ASAP, before any Slayers or Watchers get the chance to pursue him. Urkonn's retreat ended when he encountered Rukash in the sewers.

"Where's the rest of your team?" Rukash greeted Urkonn, as he reached the end of sewers.

"I had to kill the vampires. They tried to run at the first sign of trouble," Urkonn snapped. "I told you we shouldn't have trusted those mercenaries."



The Ancient sighed. "Just tell me the spy inside the Council is dead."

Urkonn frowned. "I ran into a little problem. A Watcher stopped me before I could finish my mission. He was following me right this moment, but I managed to lose him a few tunnels ago."

The Ancient muttered an obscenity. "Vorathon will not be pleased by your failure."

"No, he won't. You assured me that the distraction would leave the spy vulnerable to attack - He wasn't."

"This is not the time to point fingers. That overgrown snake, Vorathon, has just ordered everyone to retreat to the deeper well."

"We're retreating?" Urkonn was incredulous.

"Yes."

"Cowardice! The Kluthu has not even made a move yet!"

"You wish to wait for it to strike first then?" Urkonn quieted down because of those words. "The Kluthu will make its move soon, and Vorathon and Rukash know that we are in no position to resist, once the Kluthu unleash its army here. And as if that's not enough, it is even rumored that the First is also getting involved in this war. Let's face it. We are no match for them. We must rally and regroup."

Urkonn looked haggard and became resigned to the expediency of the decision. "What about our stronghold in Nevada?"

"Irrelevant. We can't hold on to that place. If the Kluthu decides to attack us there, we will be wiped out. At this moment, every ancient loyal to Rukash, alongside every Horde demon soldier, are converging to the deeper well for our last stand against the Kltuhu." The old sorcerer suddenly looked haggard and weary. "We're losing this war."

"Perhaps," Urkonn's demonic face seemed scornful. "But all is not lost. And, as you've said, the deeper well could still not be breached. All we need to do is to get to it first, and we will stand a chance." Urkonn took out a small box that was partially hidden by his billowing cape. "Besides, if worse comes to worst, we can always turn the Slayers into demons."

The old man nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, but only as a last resort."

A few moments after the Firsts' attack, the terrified people inside the hospital were still crying and running about in panic – still not entirely sure what had transpired in this extremely disorienting night.

Connor, on the other hand, was not entirely scared. He knew what was going on. Marastoth, the creature that called itself the First, Malachi's warning - They were all coming together like an awesome symphony. Connor took a still shocked Tracy, and brought her to the nearest doctor he could find. 

Connor was glad that Tracy was too shocked to mutter a word. He was in no mood to think – and even less to give explanations or long stories.

"What were those things Connor?"

Connor didn't answer her. He looked away, and pretended that he hadn't heard her.

Tracy asked again, and this time more insistent.

"Vampires. Big ones too, not the conventional ones we get in the streets and the alleys," Connor answered with a tired voice.

Tracy was not amused by what she perceived to be a jest. "Do you expect me to believe that?" She snapped.

"Well, what do you want me to say? Swamp gas? Terrorists? Gangs? Genetic Mutations? Tracy, what you just saw was a creature that killed and maimed until it was reduced into dust and ash. Whatever I'm going to say will not matter. It's up to you to believe what you just saw."

Tracy looked back into Connor's eyes, her blues streaked hair disheveled. All she could say was: "What happened?"

The question worked two ways. 'What happened just now' and 'what did you turn into'. They were both loaded issues that Connor wasn't really ready to answer, so he just looked away and called out to the nearest doctor.

"Hey Doc!" Connor cried out to one intern. "You have a patient here."

As the intern rushed towards the two, Connor looked into Tracy's eyes and told her to calm down – that everything was going to be okay. Tracy didn't look back. She was too dazed and disoriented. Her mind burdened by a world that had turned upside down.

Connor was thankful that she was too stunned to talk, that would buy him some time to plan out what he should do with her. Should he "hide" her memories? Connor didn't like that idea. He decided that he would cross that line when the time came.

The intern helped the traumatized Tracy to her feet, and called for some help additional help though he knew none was available at the moment. When Connor began to leave, the intern grabbed his arm to stop him.

"How about you? Are you hurt?" The intern asked.

Connor gave the intern a wry smile. "Afraid not."

Before the intern could rebuke Connor, a tremor shook the entire hospital floor, throwing everyone in the immediate vicinity. Lights flickered. More screams. Shouts for help and panicked commands from the doctors and nurses. The walls and ceilings began spewing out bits and pieces of debris. Connor tried 

to clear his head. Tracy and the intern were safe. They were hiding underneath one of the hospital's doorways; their arms covering their heads, trying to protect themselves from the falling debris.

Connor was alarmed by the earthquake. This was no ordinary tremor, this one was paranormal in nature – and it stank of demonic energy. He knew what it was, and what it was unleashing upon this world. He could already feel the demonic energy erupt all over LA.

It was already late in the evening when Lawin reached the Council's headquarters. After his recent close call, he thought it prudent to get himself some weapons and conjuring materials before venturing forth into a badass combat. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a mistake, because when Lawin arrived to his destination, the place was already a smoking inferno.

"This can't be right. The info Kelly gave me said nothing about an attack. It only outlined a quick smash and grab."

_Perhaps the fire and explosion are just distractions._

"A decoy to grab attention away from Dawn Summers? Possible." After the last syllable escaped Lawin's mouth, the ground trembled terribly. "What the fuc…"

_Something's wrong! You need to hide!_

"Ambush?"

_No, something worse. Hide yourself immediately._

Lawin ran to a nearby alley – as far away from the main street. There, he erected a protection ward around himself. Hopefully it's enough to protect him from whatever's going on. "What's wrong?"

_I don't know. But do you feel that?_

"Demonic energy! But… it's too powerful. That can't be right. I've never encountered power like that before. Even the Ancients don't have that kind of power."

The earthquake continued unabated for five whole minutes, and just as soon as it began – it ended. It was followed by an eerie quiet.

"I think it's over."

_No, it isn't. Do you hear that?_

"What?"

In the distance, several cries for help and hysterical screams erupted.

"It's killing me!"



"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God"

"Make it stop! Please make it Stop!"

"Help me! Please! Help me!"

"Get away from me! Get the fuck away from me!"

Everywhere, there were screams and mayhem. On the streets, people were clawing at their flesh – as if trying to dig out something inside of them. Others were running around in circles amidst the wreckage of crashed cars and overturned objects. They had one thing in common though – a very thick red and black aura seemed to permeate the entire area. It affected everyone – man, woman, and even children.

"What's happening?"

_Be quiet fool!_

Five minutes passed, and the aura dissipated into nothing. People who were once mad and out of their minds collapsed to their knees, muttering and sobbing at the terror that had possessed them for just a short time. Lawin saw all of this, and it scared the living hell out of him.

_You better call your buddy, Connor._

Connor's cell phone rang. "Hey Mr. Androgynous USA, it's me," Lawin said from the other end of the line. "I encountered a little trouble."

"Lotta love tonight. Well Lawin, you're not the only one. I had a demon tea party too."

"Really?"

"Yep. Three Super Vamps."

"That can only mean…" Lawin was disoriented by what the Turok Hans implied. "The First?" the Scion asked.

"I guess it wants to join in on the love fest. Tried to kill my family and my ex too. It wanted to see _how far along_ my powers have grown, but enough about me, what's your TS story?"

"You mean besides the earthquake and the shitty weather?" Lawin chuckled, "This early afternoon, I went to see to one of my leads about a certain set of information I discovered several days ago. Instead, I got another assassination attempt. I don't know who it was who tried to kill me, but they knew where and when to strike. Also, they killed my lead. Same old same old." Lawin told Connor the entire story about what had happened to him earlier that afternoon. The Scion sounded jaded on the phone, but his hands were trembling by what had transpired earlier that day.

"Are you okay?"



"More or less. That's about it. You wanna tell me about your running with First again?"

"Went mental on one of the Turok Han. Wasn't pretty." Connor sighed quietly. "Everything's… everything's not good right now."

"Glad to know that I'm not alone," Lawin said deadpan.

"Listen, the Kluthu have just unleashed their armies into this world. Which means that the fighting is going to start pretty soon. That little tremor we just experienced? Let's just say that geology couldn't explain it."

"The earthquake just earlier? That was the Kluthu's doing?"

"Yes."

"But how…."

"Thatdoesn't matter, right now. The Kluthu'kar, Marastoth's army, is here, that's the problem that we must contend with. I'll explain everything once we meet up again." Although Lawin wanted to learn more about the Kluthu, he stifled his curiosity and calmly exchanged contact information with Connor, after which the conversation shifted from the current topic to another one that Reilly was less familiar with. "Tell me about this info you've found."

Though, Lawin wanted to learn more about the Kluthu and the new demonic army that was unleashed on earth, he decided that it was better to be patient. "A few days ago, I intercepted a message that outlined the kidnapping of a VIP under the Council's protection in their LA HQ here. The attack's main objective is to kidnap a mystical dimensional being known as the Key. You know something about it?"

"No. I got problems of my own - from hellgods of my own."

"Sounds super."

"Yeah, lucky me," Connor muttered deadpan. "How the hell do you keep getting all this info?"

"Magick," Lawin said mischievously, "that and good old fashion cloak and dagger."

Connor frowned a bit at the mention of the M word, but he decided to let it go. "Why would they try to blow up the Council's HQ? It doesn't make any sense. If they wanted to kidnap this key that you're talking about, then the last thing they should be doing is alerting everyone that they're in the neighborhood."

"It doesn't make sense, I know," Lawin looked at the burning building for a moment, "but I do have some theories. And though I may not be sure of what they are doing, I am, however, sure of who they are."

"The Horde and your friends?"



"All things point to yes. But, there's more. This message also holds orders for evacuating all Horde legions all over the world to some pretty important place."

"Retreating?"

"Dime to a dollar that's the deeper well. I don't know if Rukash and his friends could open it though - that's something we'll need to ask Malachi if we can find the bastard. However, regardless if they can open the deeper well or not, the Horde is clearly retreating. Now, that your Kluthu friend is here. It seems Vorathon and Rukash are trying to move fast. They're pulling out all the stops and assembling all their cards for some big showdown."

"They'll fail," Connor said as a matter of fact.

"You don't know what Rukash and the Ancients are capable of," Lawin said defensively.

"Believe me, Merlin. Marastoth may be significantly weaker without the other two Kluthu, but he is still capable of killing this entire planet if he is given the chance to reach full power."

"Rukash and Vorathon are capable of…"

"Oh for Chrissake! What is this? My bad guy's better than your bad guy? Look, I don't want to discuss which demons can blow up this entire planet. I want to talk about how to stop them."

"Agreed. But right now, the Watchers are in a state of turmoil, and they are a higher priority. I need to gather further info on what exactly happened to them. You, on your part, can prepare some slides and graphs about your Kluthu friend and when it's going to unleash its army."

"Don't worry. That won't be problem. Any news about your Ancients?"

"No. What about your family? They okay?"

"Scared, but they're fine. My ex got a few stitches though."

"Your Ex?"

Connor explained Tracy, and how she was hurt in the attack. Lawin didn't understand why, but somehow the girlfriend's involvement gave him misgivings.

"Is she asking questions? You know, about vampires and stuff?"

"She is," Connor said sadly. He didn't know how to deal with Tracy if she refused to walk away.

"What are you going to do about her?"

"I don't know yet." There was uncertainty in his voice.

"Don't do it, Reilly."



"Don't do what?" Connor snapped.

"Don't involve her into this. She's a liability. You already told your family about this crap. The last thing you need to do is involve your ex too."

"She's asking questions, Lawin. What do you expect me to do? Tell her to get bent? She already saw me kill Turok Hans. Believe me, she's not going to buy any lie I can come up with."

"Then why don't you just wipe her memory, like you did with your family? That can certainly solve a lot of problems."

"I…" Connor swallowed the violent words that would have spilled out. "I didn't wipe out their memories. I hid them… I hid them, so that their thoughts will become invisible from them and from those who could infect... Look, I'm not trying to hoodwink or screw up my family's mind, okay? It's a bit more complicated than that. I'll explain it to you later."

"Okay. Okay. No harm done. I just wanted to bring a suggestion to you. Forget I said anything. It's your life. I'm just giving you my insight." Lawin dismissed the subject, but he was very curious as to what the real reason was behind Connor's memory spells. To protect his family? _I might have believed that before, but not anymore. What does Connor know? And how does his family fit into the picture?_ To throw Connor off the scent, Lawin shifted the discussion back to their current problems. "Did this… Kluthu aura get your hospital too?"

Connor was glad for the change in topic. "The earthquake got the hospital, but the Kluthu infection hasn't been able to infect anyone inside. Earlier, I constructed several wards around the place for such an eventuality."

"You can do that?"

"Yeah, it's a relatively simple process." Connor then began to dictate to Lawin how to create the wards, but the Scion cut him off when the latter saw something from the corner of his eye.

"Hold on a minute. I think I just found a new lead. Talk to you later, Reilly."

"Lawin. What are you…" Connor's protests were cut off before it could begin.

Lawin was looking at the burning wreckage of the building that used to be the Council's HQ in LA. Right now, it was a gutted skeleton. However, it wasn't the burning edifice that interested him, it was the gun totting Watcher he had saved in Sunnydale a few weeks back. He saw Aidan Traverse running out of the building, pursuing some creature that was escaping into LA's alleys.

Lawin got off his bike and transformed himself into a scorpion, glad that he stumbled upon another valuable source of information.

Dawn Summers was not a very happy girl. Not only was she pulled out from UCLA on short notice, she was also denied the chance to talk to her sister, Giles or any of Scoobies. And to top it all off, the 

Council's HQ in LA was blown to smithereens. These events only mean three things. One, she's in danger. Two, they're hiding something from her. And three, something big was happening, and everyone was in danger. These three things were causing her to be very angry, and also very scared. Right now, the best thing that she could hope for was to reach Buffy and the Council in Europe, so that she could sort everything out.

Currently, she was inside a secured SUV heading straight to one of the Council's private planes located in a small airfield, just outside of LA. She was guarded by two Watchers who were armed to the teeth. She was sitting at the back, while her bodyguards were sitting up front. They were already outside LA's city limits.

"Can you at least tell me what's going on?"

It was the driver answered. "We would Miss Summers, but truth be told, we don't know what's going on either. Mr. Glessing was the only chap privy to all the information here, in California, and now he's unfortunately dead."

"Poor bugger."

The driver ignored his partner, and continued: "This crisis, whatever it is, is already being assessed by the Council's directors (A Euphemism for the Scooby Gang). Don't worry. I'm sure your sister and Mr. Giles have a good reason for keeping this secret."

"Yes," The Watcher riding shotgun added, "One of the fellows who works with Mr. Giles informed me that all the information pertaining to the crisis would be released as soon as the directors are finished with their assessment."

The words were supposed to be reassuring, but Dawn heard the real truth beneath their façade: We don't know anything, and we're scared that the reason Giles is keeping something from us is because he doesn't know anything either.

These thoughts weren't very comforting, and they only served to increase the dread that Dawn had already felt earlier, while she was still in LA. Before she left with her escorts Dawn had asked the local Slayers – Shannon, Ashley and several other girls - about what they knew, but unfortunately they too could only shrug innocuously and shake their heads in ignorance. Some gave little rumors and gossip about certain mysterious phone calls and the possibility of a plague that targeted Slayers – but other than that – nothing.

_Dammit! What the hell's going on? When I find Giles, I'm going to ask him for an explanation! He better give me one!_ And suddenly, self hatred and guilt kicked in. _I should never have left for college. I was supposed to be a Watcher, not a college girl. What was I thinking, going off like that? Buffy, Willow and Xander needed me and I abandoned them! Quit it, Summers! Banging your head against the wall isn't going to help you with your problems. _

The Watchers were to deliver her, their VIP, to the plane in one piece. Yes, it was a simple escort and delivery, but with so many problems happening all over the City of Angels, it was a very tense situation at best. Something was happening and everyone was either ignorant or being extremely secretive.



Only a few hours had passed since the explosion that destroyed the Council's HQ in LA. The official story was that there was a gas leak in the building. But in truth, no one knew what had happened – some vampires were seen in the area at the time of the attack, but beyond that, nothing. No investigations could be conducted until the last of the fires were put out, and the last of the injuries healed. Glessing was dead. And one Watcher, Aidan Travers, was missing in action.

At the moment, the Los Angeles authorities were in no position to conduct a thorough forensic investigation on anything. They were spread thin, thanks largely to an escalating number of meteorological anomalies, a large number fires near Beverly Hills and "unconfirmed rumors of an unknown epidemic." A lot of strange activity has been happening in between Nevada and California – mostly in the badlands – and no one, Watcher or otherwise, seems to be giving anyone any answers.

Though she kept asking a lot of questions, along with all the other Slayers stationed in LA, most of the Watchers were very tight lipped about what they knew – this smacked of Giles' secrecy.

Dawn sighed and kept her misgivings to herself. She crossed her arms and looked outside the window to divert her attention. LA felt ominous tonight, as if it was being ravaged by unseen forces. Her thoughts were interrupted by a ringing phone - The Watcher who riding shotgun was being called.

"Hello?" It was another Watcher on the other line. "What? When did this happen?" Something was said on the other line that caused the Watcher to pale. "We didn't feel anything… No we're outside of LA…. It must have been confined within the city."

"What's wrong?" The driver asked.

The Watcher with the cell phone covered his phone's receiver with the palm of his hand. "There was an earthquake… and apparently, some kind of mass hallucination. The phenomenon was confined within LA alone." The Watcher returned to his call. "Demonic energy? What kind? ...That doesn't make any sense… Are you sure about that… Dammit! Okay, Relax. Call Mr. Giles, and tell him what's happened. Yes, call him… Have you found Travers yet? Too bad. Well, I suggest you figure out what caused the bloody earthquake… uh huh… Spit it out man! ...How'd they find out about that? Bloody hell!"

"What is it?" Dawn asked.

The Watcher ignored Dawn. "Yes, that was her… Oh, she was asking what's happening… I know… She's safe…. I know. I know. Don't worry. We're almost to the hangar. Yes, nothing has happened… What! Okay, okay. We'll be extra careful bye. You too. Take care of yourselves too." The call ended.

"What's wrong," the driver asked.

"A demon group is apparently trying to ambush us."

"Ambush us? How?" Dawn asked, with a tinge of fear.

"I don't have the details, but our people in LA apparently got an anonymous call from someone who said that some demons know where we're taking you, and they want to stop us before we can get you to safety." The Watchers took out their 9 mms and checked their ammo. The Watcher who was 

riding shotgun took out a bag full of daggers and stakes from under his seat and passed a sharp looking Sai to the driver. "Don't worry we're not going to let anything bad happen to you."

"Okay, I've just about had it up to here with this crap! Why would a bunch of demons want to kidnap me? What do you know about the attack on our HQ? What do we know about this guy who keeps giving us these anonymous calls? I want answers, and I want them now, and you better not give me 'Be patient' or 'Mr. Giles said to wait' because I'm sick and tired of it!"

The Watcher who was riding shotgun turned to Dawn and regarded her with a look that was not far from anger. "Miss Summers, I appreciate the gravity of the situation but you must trust when we say that this is all…." Before the Watcher could finish his sentence, the SUV was stuck by some powerful force, and it swerved off the road straight into a steep and crevice covered by thick bushes and ferns.

The van turned around and around, until it buried into the crevice. Dawn felt like she was about to puke after the accident, but she held it in – too afraid of breaking at this critical instance. She felt her head and there was a faint gash near her temples. The Watchers were dead – their bodies twisted at an unnatural angle. She would have been dead too had she not worn her seat belt. She tried her cell phone, but the damn thing was gone - probably lost during the crash.

Dawn focused her mind, and blocked out the pain – and held back the tears that threatened to flood out. _Don't cry! If you cry, you'll fall apart, and then it's all over! Keep it together Dawn! This is not time to fall apart now._ She unhooked her seatbelt and slowly got out of the wreckage. At first, she crawled, and when she was strong enough, she hobbled to the nearest shrubs and bushes, hoping that she would not be found by whatever had pursued her.

As if on cue, three large and green skinned demons approached the van. One of the demons standing near the wreckage of the van snapped at one of its minions. "You moron! Vorathon will have our heads if we killed the Key!"

"I'm… I'm sorry. It's not my fault that these humans are so fragile."

"Oh, shut up! Hurry, we need to find her before the others leave."

"Where are we going?" One asked with a thick Asiatic accent.

"Who cares? As long as it's far away from the Kluthu, I'm in."

Dawn crawled deeper into the bushes and remained perfectly still. The demons continued their fruitless search, but they could not find any trace of their quarry. All they could find were a couple of corpses and the wreckage.

Dawn kept quiet. A few times, one of the demons came close to her hiding place but they never found her. After a few more moments of fruitless searching, another demon appeared from out of nowhere and started chattering with the ones who were conducting the search. At first they seemed unconcerned, but they quickly turned hysterical.

"The Kluthu'kar? They've been unleashed?" The words were spoken with fear.



"Yes," the messenger answered grimly.

"That can't be possible. I thought they said that the Kluthu is still too weak to be of any threat."

"Obviously, they were wrong. The Kluthu has just unleashed its army here. It's only a matter of time before they materialize into existence. We need to get out of here."

"What about the Key?"

"Screw that! I'm not waiting around to fight a Kluthu. You want to finish your mission? Go ahead. Me? I'm leaving."

"Vorathon will not like this," the third demon quipped.

"Who said I'm coming back to General Speech Impediment? I'm leaving this dimension with my cousin and my life partner tomorrow. The Kluthu and Vorathon can destroy this place for all I care. I never wanted to be a part of the stinking Horde army anyhow! I was drafted! I mean, I used to be a decent demon eating two to three human kids a week, but those bigwigs came here with their damned war. And for what? To protect a bunch of hibernating stiffs in that damned deeper well? They're worse than Bush." Vorathon and his Horde demons were recruiting all the "native" demons of this world – vampires, fyarls, and even D'Hoffryn's vengeance girls.

"So, you're leaving?"

"Yep, I'm going to Pylea. I have a friend there who owes me from way back. If you're smart, you'll join me; unless of course, you guys would rather play Horde soldiers."

The two other demons looked at each other and came to unanimous decision: "We're in." The three left the area, glad to be fleeing from the conflict.

When they had gone, Dawn got up from her hiding place and pondered what the demons were talking about. Kluthu? Deeper Well? Vorathon? She did not have any answers, but she now had names. She ran away from the wreckage of the car, hoping to reach a safe place where she could get help.

Aidan wasn't sure what was happening. He tried calling the other Council members - perhaps to ask for reinforcements - but he couldn't find a good signal. He thought about quitting, perhaps going back to HQ and report in on what he knew, but he suddenly thought about Pryce and Sirk, and he remembered who he was really _working for._

Aidan's long and terrifying pursuit brought him to LA's labyrinthian sewers. Aidan didn't particularly care to kill Urkonn and avenge the attack on the Council. No, he was more interested in pursuing Urkonn to his lair, and passing the information to the members of the Council… as well as Sirk and Pryce.

As he trudged through the sewers, Aidan noticed a scorpion scuttling along the sewer railings not far from him. The little stank of magick. The Watcher snatched out his 9 millimeter and aimed it at the 

arachnid. "Okay, I know that there aren't supposed to be any scorpions down here in the sewers, which makes your disguise rather unrealistic. I know you're not human, so what are you?"

The scorpion twitched a bit, its carapace unleashed a shower of magick all around, and then it turned into a human being – a human being that leapt from the railing and straight towards Aidan.

"Hold!" Aidan fired several shots at his attacker, but they bounced off some kind of magical barrier. The next thing the Watcher knew was that his gun had disappeared from his hands and he was punched solidly in the face.

When he finally recovered from the blow, Aidan got a good look at his attacker. "You! You were one of those buggers who saved me in Sunnydale!"

"You remember," Lawin said snidely. "I'm flattered." The Scion then struck Aidan across the face, but this time Aidan was prepared and he managed to block the punch before it connected. Aidan struck back with an elbow, which Lawin managed to grab just before it connected with the latter's jaw.

The Scion used Aidan's own momentum against him, and executed a finessed Aikido move that sent the necromancer flying off his feet and towards a railing. Aidan shook his head, trying to get the pain out of his skull and made certain that there would still be a 'Round Two'. Unfortunately for him, Lawin pounced on him from behind and got him in a strangle hold. Aidan flailed and struggled, but Lawin's grip was too strong. The last image that Aidan saw was that of a twirling collage of images, which ultimately turned into darkness.

After Malachi discovered about Whistler's involvement in the recent events that were influencing the events surrounding the upcoming demonic war, he wasted no time in assembling all the necessary information to hunt down his one-time colleague.

During that entire time, the only thing that was going on inside Malachi's head was agitation and worry over what Whistler's motives were in staying behind.

"Whatever it is," Malachi muttered to himself, "it isn't to help me with my plans."

_He's a problem! He's a goddamn, stupid, fornicating problem! Those bastards upstairs assured me that this was going to be my show – that they would pull out everyone else stationed here, so that I can pull off the __**plan**__ solo. What the hell is that son of a bitch, Whistler doing here? _

After eight to nine hours of fruitless searching, hunting down phone calls and tracking down mysterious energy signatures that could only be created by a creature like Whistler, Malachi hit pay dirt in a small payphone not far from a convenience store in Watts. Getting the necessary information and call history from Phone Company was simple enough. All it needed was a little breaking and entering, and interrogation and mind wipe on some personnel.

His search rewarded Malachi with Whistler's location in South LA. He found Whistler in a decrepit, broken down apartment – talking to someone on the phone. Whistler, another servant of the powers that be, looked haggard and tired. Had he been human he would have looked old and tired. Malachi 

approached Whistler slowly - not with stealth, for that would have been pretentious – just thorough caution. Whistler was powerful, but then again, so was Malachi.

Whistler spoke with a tired voice on the phone: "You should never have involved them in the first place!" Whistler snapped to the person on the other side of line. "They're involvement will jeopardize everything!"

The other line began to protest, and Whistler sighed. "I know. I understand. But, from a tactical standpoint, what you've done is insane! Okay. Okay. Just make sure that you can keep it a secret... Of course, I can it keep it a secret." Whistler sighed more audibly when the person on the other line said something that was off-topic. "Yes, I know about that thing. I know it wasn't part of the plan… No… No, it's not the Kluthu. I can assure you of that... There was no way to predict that the First would become involved… Yes, that's my suspicion as well. I'm looking into it now…. I know. I know. Well, this is your plan, after all."

The other line changed the topic. "You're serious? Well, what did you do? I see. Okay. Well, if it isn't necessary don't do it. You want my advice?" Whistler chuckled a bit. "I don't know. That's up to you. I can't help you with that one, but again, from a tactical standpoint, you know what must be done." The other line said something angrily. "I'm just saying things as I see them. I don't want to tell you what to do. I'm only telling you what's going to happen. Okay, I have to call you back later. _He's here…_Yes, I know. I expected him to arrive sooner too. I guess old Malachi has gone slow without the powers that be or the vision's aid. Yes, I'll talk to you too later."

Whistler replaced the phone. "Hello Mal. What took you so long to find me?" The voice was mildly amused. The two servants of the powers stood face to face. Though they were not armed or showed the slightest hint of violence, there was no mistaking the hidden animosity and brutality just beneath the surface.

"Whistler. Long time, no see. Who were you were talking to?" Malachi had a wry smile on his face.

Whistler chuckled, and shook his finger, as if to a bad child; and then placed it to the tip of his lips to signify that it was a secret. "I'll never tell, Mal."

Malachi chuckled at the hollow bravura. "Doesn't matter. That can wait. For now, I want to know what you're doing here – why you're screwing around with my plans."

Whistler laughed wickedly. "You're plans? Ah yes, your glorious brilliant plots! Tell me, Maly. Does your plan involve making alliances with the Kluthu?"

"_A Kluthu." _Malachi's wrathful glare descended upon Whistler. "I made a deal with a Kluthu, and I did it to protect _our _interests and this world."

"Do you honestly expect me to buy that?"

"I expect you to remove your damned presence from this world so that I can conduct my mission in peace!"



"I won't do that." Whistler's voice was calm, his plain and simple face was placid, but there was no mistaking the hidden violence within him. The darkness within apartment was oppressive in the small enclosed space of the apartment. "I'm not about going to stand by and let you have your way."

"Really? Tell me, when have you ever gotten your hands dirty for the powers Whistler? Have you ever made hard choices for them? Have you ever stolen and lied for them? Have you ever killed for them? Your star pupil Angel did; and so did countless others! They knew what it was like to be in the belly of the beast – and struggling for some sense of honor amidst moral dead ends. This is a war, and the sacrifice of our lives, our honor, and even our souls – are necessary to keep us from losing!"

"What you are doing is not a noble act, Malachi." Whistler said calmly. "You are only setting in motion a series of events that will only cause us more problems."

"Not if we control the Destroyer! Not if we can chain him and his powers then we'd be able to control Connor as we used his father."

Whistler's self control fell apart. He then pumped himself into a self righteous rage. "I won't let you use Connor like some mindless pawn."

Malachi sighed, and looked at his colleague contemptuously. "Spare me the hypocrisy! You were the one who contacted Angel early in his _career. _You were the one who oversaw his missions. And even when he was bestowed with Doyle's aid – even when he was given the visions by Cordelia, you were still there right up to his murder of Drognyn and the circle. You were in charge of Angel's… progress. You controlled his path. So, do not, for one second tell me that I am wrong – because you have done to Angel exactly what I am doing to his son."

"Yes," Whistler said bitterly. "I did all those things, and I hate myself for it. And, I hope to _atone_ for them."

"How? By serving Connor? By protecting him from our grasp?"

"You're making a deal with the Kluthu. You're playing a very dangerous game."

"The Kluthu is irrelevant - dangerous but irrelevant. Marastoth will be removed in the foreseeable future along with the other Kluthu; but for now, he is a common ally in bringing Connor to our cause. And he is useful in thinning Vorathon's forces." Malachi's youthful voice was deceptively calm despite his cold and calculating nature. "Besides, the powers have dealt with demons before." Malachi's veneer of civility was an ironic statement at Whistler being a demon, and a servant of the powers.

"This isn't the way Malachi. For too long, we've pissed on the Champions, and this _mess _we have now is the consequences of a mile long list of fouled up plans and treacheries. We can't afford to go on like this."

"Oh, how noble! Save the veteran! Bring our soldiers home!" Malachi snapped. "When did you become such a whiny piece of crap? Angel signed up for his gig, just like you - just like me. He's in trouble right now because he was willing to pay the price. It was his choice. You, on the other hand, are turning into an overgrown pussy. I accepted the risks and price gladly, and still do, and so did Angel. Tell 

me Whistler, what about you? Are you still willing to toe the line? I'm here now risking my ass for our interests and the survival of this world. So, what if I'm manipulating a psychotic little freak? I'm doing it to keep the peace!"

Whistler raised his chin arrogantly. "Connor's not a part of this."

Malachi laughed softly, and yelled: "HE IS! Whether he's aware of it or not, he's a part of all this! None of this would be happening if he wasn't born. What? Are you trying to redeem yourself to Angel by protecting his son?"

"No. I'm trying to protect an innocent kid from being used as a pawn in your twisted game."

"If you think I'm so unscrupulous in my methods, then perhaps you should blame the people upstairs as well. They're the ones who approved my mission. They're the ones who, albeit uncomfortably, approved me of contacting Marastoth. I'm not saying that manipulating Connor is right or wrong, but it's the only choice we have left. That kid is a threat to us all – demon and higher beings – he will bring destruction on us all. He must be stopped, and the powers that be agree with me."

"Then I renounce the powers!"

Malachi sighed and tried to reason with the demon opposite him. "We're blind here Whistler. No more visions. Maybe the higher ups were willing to send a couple of premonitions a few days ago, but now that a Kluthu has arrived – nada! The powers have completely quarantined this entire world. This is a war zone now! Which means that this is my show! Not yours! So, if you know what's good for you, you better hightail it out of here!"

"No."

"I can handle Marastoth, if that's what you're worried about. I won't hand Connor over to him. Believe that."

"No."

"You're making things difficult for me, Whistler."

"That's the idea." Whistler's features began to take on demonic features, and his body had grown considerably in size – easily dwarfing Malachi's. The demon that now stood before Malachi was large, scaled, horned and had the color of dark green on it skin. Whistler looked like he could take down a truck.

Malachi was mildly amused by the transformation. "Are you planning to fight me?" In a fight, both of them were certain that Whistler would lose. Despite that certainty however, Whistler struck with a large scaled hand.

Malachi, a mentalist, had the powers of prescience, and he was able to anticipate the blow and dodge the demon's attacks. He chose not to anticipate however, as that would be counterproductive - He wanted Whistler alive. So instead, Malachi decided to just let Whistler throw his punches, and dodge 

them as they came. Even as the walls were destroyed, furniture broken and doors and windows devastated, the battle continued unabated, but Whistler dodged all of the blows that might have killed him.

The waltz continued for some time until Malachi noticed that Whistler left a flank exposed. Seizing the opportunity, Malachi struck back with sonic blast that threw Whistler across the room.

Whistler - sensing that he was going nowhere with the fight - decided to disengage from combat, and escape from the apartment by jumping out of his apartment's window.

"Pussy!" Malachi snapped. He went to the broken window and observed Whistler lumber through the streets, elbowing gaping pedestrians and honking horns. The neon sign of the apartment building glowed bright and blue amidst the darkness and the rain. Malachi jumped out of the window and carefully made his way down to the street to pursue the demon.

Whistler ran. Malachi pursued. South LA was a mazelike gulag of dark buildings and warehouses that might as well have been a jungle of barbed wires and concrete. Whistler continued to run hard – jumping from one building after another - putting some distance between him and his pursuer.

Malachi, for his part, ran ruthlessly – pushing his body to the limit – jumping over obstacles and climbing chain-linked fences. Though Malachi could only run through the streets and alleyways, bypassing the occasional stray dog or hobo, he was able to give chase even though his quarry could jump and run like a rampaging gorilla.

The chase continued unabated, until an earthquake struck. Malachi, with his human body, fell down on one of the numerous dumpsters and garbage bins, as dust and debris rained down all around him. By the time the mentalist had picked himself up from his unfortunate accident, Whistler had all but disappeared.

"No." Low, and with disbelief. "No!" Rage and frustration. "I nearly got him! I nearly had him!"

Malachi knew what the tremors were all about. "Damned Kluthu! I had him. I nearly had Whistler in my grasp! Now, that SOB was going to become an even bigger pain in my ass." Accepting defeat at last, Malachi got up and began formulating various plans to salvage the disasters of that night. He then straightened out his rumpled clothes, spat out an obscenity at Marastoth, his ally, and calmly walked out of the alley.

When the Connor's conversation with the Scion ended, he climbed to the top of the hospital building. He had to see the extent of the damage that Marastoth had unleashed on the entire city – the world, and it was terrible.

_Dear God!_

Though everything looked normal from a human perspective, Connor, with his awareness of the dark energies, saw the Kluthu army that was yet to be born. It was in the latent aura that was fused with the 

life force of every human being that Maratoth had infected. From one end of the horizon to the other, Connor saw red and black energies – an aura that permeated every living creature. This aura would materialize soon, and when it did, demons would erupt upon this world like an unholy deluge.

As the Kluthu's evil spread throughout the entire world, a quiet voice entered Connor's ear: "It's begun. Young messiah," Marastoth said through his sardonic smile, "you thought to run from your power. You thought to run from creation itself. But you've failed!" Marastoth laughed a bit more. "Because you're dads were a couple of douche bags! And, you're an overgrown prude!" The earthquake continued. Do you hear me Connor? You can't stop this! You Will _Become!_"

The Evil voice seemed to drown out Connor's thoughts.

"Drama Queen," Connor snorted.

_You never really know who you are, or what you are doing, until you are finished_

_Funny words, coming from someone like me. _

_I used to be Connor Reilly, college boy – all American kid._

_Before him, I used to be Steven Holtz – the adopted child of a broken man._

_And before that, I was the Destroyer of Quor'toth – Nebadon - the messiah of the Kluthu _

_Born from darkness to bring darkness_

_The Miracle Child of two vampires _

_Destroyer_

_Paradox _

_Abomination_

_Messiah_

_If Angel taught me anything,_

_If Holtz taught me anything,_

_It's this:_

_It's not who you are now that should be bothering you_

_It's who you could become tomorrow_

_I know what I will become_

_I've already made the final choice_

_But, I'm also scared of that thing…_

_That terrible creature in the distance that bears my face_

_But the most terrifying thing of all, is that I know that I must become him _

_He is my reality_

_Inevitable_

_Limitless_


End file.
